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But if they are driven from their native country by po* 
sitive evils, and disgusted by ill treatment, real or imagin- 
ary, it were fit to remove their grievances, and quiet their 
resentment. Johnson. 

Good thoughts towards men are little better than good 
dreams, except they are put in act ; and that cannot be 
without power and place, as the vantage and commanding 
ground. , bacon. 

Ctiinfmtfff) : 








til^en'fcund-i 1 ^ 5 

R 1024 

r • 

t « • 

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KrffEN the amiable Archbishop of Cambr ay favoured the 
world with his elegant poem, Telkmachus ; and when 
Goldsmith's masterly and correct pen produced his Tra- 
veller and Deserted Village, each of these illus- 
trious writers h adjjfe& iew great political objects ; namely, 
the convenience aJH BJfi fel of the individual in society, as 
well as the happ^fifiSjK^prosperity of the community at 
large* "f&-. 

The verses contained in the following pagesy are pro- 
fessedly of apolitical cast ; but, disclaiming all connection 
with the politics of the day, they aim at something very 
different; — and tl<at is, to call the attention of good men, 
wherever dispersed throughout our island, to the manifold 
and great evils arising from the introduction of that sys- 
tem which has within these last forty years spread among 
the Grampians and Western Isles, and is the leading cause 
of a Depopulation that threatens to extirpate the ancient 
raceqf inhabitants of those districts. The system alluded to 
is that if Sheep-Stores, a species of monopoly beneficial 
to a few, but prejudicial to the State, in as much as it di- •• ^ 
rectly leads to Emigration, and consequently to a train of 


national calamities, the bare idea of which awakens ap- 
prehension of danger. Of the just grounds for real dread, 
the Act of Parliament, for giving a check to migra- 
tions from the Highlands of Scotland and other parts of the 
British Empire, is a striking proof. The neglect of our 
Fisheries, as well as the total disregard of other depart- 
ments of productive labour, or useful industry, are inter- 
esting topics that are kept steadily in, view throughout the 
present production. And, in order to rouse the humane 
itnd benevolent to a fellow-feeling with the sufferings and 
hardships of the oppressed or ejected Gael, episodes are 
occasionally introduced, illustrative of their deplorable 
condition: and likewise, in the event of a redress of griev- 
ances, consequently of a more favourable and permanent 
^establishment, under wise and specific regulatums, suitable 
to an improved system of Store- Farms, Manufactures, 
Fisheries, &tc. — various prospects, or poetic exhibitions, 
are laid open to the imagination, so as to interest the active 
'feelings of the soul ; and, at the same time, the intellectual 
faculties are called on to devise the best possible means for 
the maintenance of private happiness, conjoined with pub- 
• lie welfare, natio?ial independence, wealth; and true glory, 
as founded on the immutable laws of moral rectitude, and 
sound policy. 

€C To charm, to move, to elevate the soul," says the elo- 
quent historian oft he Decline and Fall of the Roman Em- 


pvre, iC are the great objects of poetry * " " The great en& 
€C and object^ poetry," says another elegant writer i} €( . and 
** consequently the proper aim of the poet, is, to communis 
<c cote to us a clear and perfect idea of the proposed sub" 
€C feet f." " But to be understood," says an eminent phi- 
losopher, 4C is not the sole object of the poet : his primary 
" object is to please ; and the pleasiire which he conveys 
" will, in general, be found to be proportionafe to the 
*>< beauty and liveliness of the images which he suggests $.'• 

But, whether the author of the present performance 
lias availed himself of a knowledge of his subject, and ap- 
plied with energy, judgment, and taste, the rules of the 
art of poetry, — an acquaintance with which the advanced 
state of elegant literature may have furnished— is a ques- 
turn by no meansforhim to determine; and therefore he must 
leave it to the candid decision of competent judges m , — sa- 
tisfied, in his own mind, that, in the arrangement of the 
various subject-matter that enters into the great outline of 
the plan, he has attempted to model it after truth, sim- 
plicity, and nature, so as to present to the reader a regu- 
lated whole, the ground-work of which must be interest- 
ing to every Friend of his Country. 

* Gibbon's Essay on the Study of Literature, Sect, xxxvii. 

f Roscoe's Life of Lorenzo de Media, Vol. I. p. 255. 4*0. printed in 

the year 179& 

$ Stewart's Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, p. 495, 
4*0, printed in the year 179a. 


The Profits arising from the sale of this edition of 
the present poem, are intended to lay the foundation of 4 
Fund for the aid of industrious Peasants, and Tradesmen, 
who shall hereafter incline to become settlers, or Cultiva- 
tors of Waste Land in any part of Great Britain. For 
which purpose the smallest sum above the price of the 
book, will be thankfully received : — and may be deposit- 
ed in the hands of Vernor & Hood in the Poultry, 
London ; and Manners & Miller, Parliament Close, 
Edinburgh, the Publishers; — in whose possession, Books 
of Subscription will be found, for inserting the names 
of donors or benefactors of this intended foundation,— to 
be called, " The Fund op Aid for Waste Land 
" Cultivators." 



Thus every good his native wilds- impart. 
Imprints the patriot passion on his heart ; 
And even those hills that round his mansion rise 
Enhance the Hiss his scanty fund supplies. 
Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, 
And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms ; 
And as a babe, when scaring sounds molest, 
Clings close and closer to the mot1ier y s breast, 
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, 
But bind him to his native mountains more. 




or THE 



Invocation,, and subject proposed. L Desolate appear* 
ance of the Grampian Mountains. — The Family -Residence 
of a Chieftain deserted* IL Former times contrasted 
with the present>Some characteristic scenes and ckcum- 
stances slightly touched, in illustration of the changes which 
appear on the face of the country*— +The introduction of 
the Sheep-Stokk System, the chief cause of Depopulation. 
III. Should the system here alluded to, obtain, unqualified* 
throughout the Highland districts* our Army and Navy 
in imminent ddnger of not being properly supplied with 
a brave, hardy race of men, in time of war, or threatened 
invasion.— The Gael, in consequence of being turned out of 
their possessions, are forced to emigrate, and are attracted 
to settle in cities ; which hastens the decline of their health, 
subverts their morals, and proves, eventually, their total 
ruin. — Episode in illustration qf these melancholy facts. 

IV. The British Nation, alive to the great interests of 
the State, will naturally espouse the cause of the oppressed 
Gael, who form a valuable portion of Hie community. — 
An alteration, favourable to their condition, anticipated, 
— Its happy consequences pointed out — and thus, in some 
measure, the Patriarchal Age, so congenial to the Gael, 
will he restored. V. A slight outline of the History of the 
Grampians and Western Isles, from the Heroic Ages down 
to the year 1748, when the British Legislature abo- 
lished Feudal and Hereditary Jurisdiction. VI. In conse- 
quence of that happy event, the Union ©/"South and North 
Britain greatly strengthened : — And our Gael adven- 
ture into every part of the British dominions either at home 
or abroad, in pursuit of reward, or distinction, as warriors, 
statesmen, merchants, lawyers, men of science, &c. — Their 
importance, therefore, as pillars of the state, should point 
out the propriety of opposing the unlimited establishment 
of the Sheep- Store System, and by this means prevent 
Depopulation, and all its fatal effects. 




.Awake th' harmonious harp, O Muse of Song, 
To whom the tales of other times belong ! 


Recount, in plaintive strains, those recent ills 

That desolate the hoary Grampian hills : 

In numbers touching, sweetly sad, bewail, 

The wrongs that ruin, and disperse the Gael. 

Thy fingers wandering o'er each trembling string, 

Next, in melodious measures, gladly sing 

Those wrongs redress'd : Thy ancient race restor'd, 

In bonds of friendship firm, with one accord % 

(The General Weal kept steadily in view), 

The paths of industry they'll straight pursue. — 

Record the riches of our mountains hoar, 

Our native herds, and choicest fleecy store : 

Our deer, our roe, and other royal game, 

The sport of heroes, once, of deathless name. 

A 3 

And sing delighted of the shoals that swarm 
In river, lake, and many a stretch'd sea-arm. 
Point out to Britain's. Senate objects gre^t, 
Vast hidden treasures; precious to the state 
As to th' industrious, keen in enterprise, 
Who reap advantage, and by merit rise- 
Be these the varied strains, O Muse of Song, 
And strike the harp as swells the theme along ? 

I, Amid these Alpine wilds remote I roam 
From thee, my Clementina, — far from home 
I wander pensive, lonely, and unseen, 
As thus I gaze o'er all, the altered scene, 
Where thy renown'd fore-fathers in the chase 
Were wont to speed. — How desolate the place 
Where erst the hall resounded in high joy; 
Where innocentry gay thou didst employ 
The swift- wing'd moments of life's early dawn,. 
Along the wooded stream, or flowery lawn, 
How sadly changed ! How desolate the waste !— 
Save where yon shepherd and his dog in haste 
Ascend the mountain's brow, the fleecy charge 
To toil among, as far they stray at large, 
. No trace of human step the eye perceives ! — 
In vain the feeling bosom pining heaves, 
Since dire Depopulation's deepening gloom 
Spreads all the horrors of a living tomb ! — (I) 

Tis vain to murmur, since no powerful arm 
Is left to save a land from hopeless harm ! — 

II. Where now the guardian Chiefs, humane and just? 
Dispersed some wander— many sleep in dust- 
While some, to honour lost, mind naught save gain :— 
But few, alas ! of sterling worth, remain ! — 
Ah ! how unlike the Chiefs, in times of old,. 
Who, mindful of their kindred, nor for gold, 
Nor sordid gain, nor selfish narrow views 
The bonds of sacred friendship would unloose !— 
How changed of late ! — The Chieftains of these times. 
Behold with apathy to distant climes 
Their kinsmen sore oppress'd, deluded go y 
But to encounter poverty and woe! — (2) 
Oh ! with what rapture could the Muse relate 
The mild contentment of their former state, 
When calm domestic joys beam'd in each eye, 
And every heart was glad, and none knew why ; 
When every glen, and hill, and mountain's side, 
A hardy race possess'd, proud Albion's pride ! 
— The times are altered — desolation reigns 
Amidst these Alpine wilds and narrow plains ! 
The mournful Muse recounts those recent ills 
Which swept around the hoary Grampian hills ! 

" And dost thou, Stranger from afar, enquire 
\Vhere stood the Chieftain's hall, whose evening fire 

A 4 


Saluted oft the weary traveller's gaze, 

As onward hastening to the social blaze ? 

Where stood each lowly cottage rang'd around, 

Within the cultured in-Jield's ancient bound : (3) 

Beside the streamlet, near the sheltering hill, 

Where stood the smithy, where the hamlet's mill, (4) 

Whose ringing anvil, and whose clapper told 

Their cheering tales of toil to young and old : 

Where old and young did usually resort 

To loiter gaily, — join some harmless sport, 

Or €C Tales of other times," with glee rehearse, 

Or praises challenge by some new-made verse : (5) 

Perchance, some strange or interesting news 

Excite the curious rustics, or amuse j— • 

With keen avidity they still enquire, 

And gaze and wonder much, — and more admire. — (6) 

Where stood the aged Ollamhan's hallow'd shed, (7) 

That shelter'd from the storm his hoary head : 

Save heath-spread ridges, or some moss-clad mound, (8) 

No trace of ancient times can now be found ! — 

(g More recent evils, Stranger ! I deplore, 
The Gael are banish'd from their native shore ! 
Shepherds a sordid few, their lands possess : — 
System accurs'd ! — What scenes of dire distress 
Hath this not caused ? — See yon deserted glen, 
Pf late Jhe bless'd abode of jpiappy men ; 

'Tis now a dreary void !-— save where yon tree, 
By bleak winds blasted, marks the stern decree 
Which doom'd to ruin all the hamlets round, 
And chang'd to sheep-walks this devoted ground ! 
— -And is it wise to desolate these hills, 
Lay waste those glens— expose to all the ills 
Of emigration once a powerful race, 
Who felt supremely blest in native place ? s 

III. " Say, whence then shall our Armies be supplied 
Our Navy too, proud Britain's boastful pride 5 
If from our mountains and our sea-girt isles 
The Gael be thence outcast as poor exiles ? (p) 
In silent anguish, downcast eye, thus driven, 
They roajn at large, — their lands to strangers given— 
Their herds and flocks wide scatter'd, Others own, 
O'erwhelm'd in woe, with grief familiar grown, 
They bid a long farewell to all most dear, 
And heave the sigh, and drop the parting tear ! — 

" At length, with lingering look, their native home 
They leave behind — forlorn they listless roam, 
Till some far city haply strikes the view, 
To which they bend their steps, and thus pursue 
Their wayward fate : — Reluctant having sped 
Bowed down they toil to gain their daily bread. 

" But w.hat a change ! — Alas ! debile old age, 
^Jo soothing hQpe can now its ills assuage !-r? 


Though early train'd to turn its native soil, 
Youth sinks apace beneath unhealthy toil : 
Sweet smiling infancy turn'd sickly, pale, 
Droops, and decays : and blooming maidens wail 
Their fading beauty, lost to one they love, 
Though to their plighted vows they constant prove, 
The day far distant, — nay, may never come, 
When fate should lead them to some peaceful home ! 
Some still retreat, though humble be the fare, 
Yet, dear domestic sweets would soothe all care. 
More bless'd, contented, few were to be found 
Than Kenneth once : He on the self-same ground 
His sires possess' d for life, from sire to son, 
(The meed their valour and their deetfs had won), 
Long liv'd respected ; and revered his name 
For truth and honesty, the poor man's* fame : 
His means were ample for his low estate, 
And calm contentment made him truly great r 
A wife, two daughters, and an only son, 
Shared his blest lot : their comforts smoothly run, 
Clear, full, and equal on : — till, sad reverse ! 
Mischance unlock' d for did their means disperse. 

-The destin'd day — the dire decree, at last, 

That doom'd the Grampians desolate, had pass'd ; 
Low-eoartirif Shepherds, by the Chiefs preferr'd, 
Soon dispossess the Gael, without regard 



To ancient usage, privilege, or right. (10) 
—Now to the world's wide range, a mournful sight, 
Our native race of tenants doom' go 
In quest of bread, are sunk in hopeless woe ! 

" Among the wanderers Kenneth takes his way ; 
In sorrow keen his family, late so gay, 
Pour forth their mingling griefs as onward driven, 
With upcast streaming eyes to pitying heaven* 
Though deep despondency usurps the while, 
Still dubious rays of hope their griefs beguile ; 
They sojourn often,— oft enquire how far 
The City thence their faithless leading-star ! 
Gilt in the glory of departing rays, 
At length the city's towers arrest their gaze : 
Wearied and faint, they search, and find at last 
A wretched hovel*— share a poor repast ; (1 1) 
Anon, in balmy sleep their eye-lids close, 
(The soothing comforter of all their woes !) 
While, scenes they left behind, and days of joy, 
To fancy seen, their airy dreams employ ; — 
Dawn, glimmering through the loathsome hovel's gloom, 
Awakes the wanderers in their living tomb ! 
They burst forth thence, all panting for fresh air, 
And in amazement lost they wildly stare, 
As through each lane, and lengthening street they roam, 
Still gazing, sigh and weep, and think of home ! 


But home — to them no home ! — is distant far !— 
Resigned they follow their malignant star, 
Unfriended, poor, lorn, languid, thus sunk low, 
Still wandering onward, know not where to go. 
Meanwhile, the City's pale-faced sons arose : 
Some ply th' unhealthy calling, some disclose 
The gaudy splendour of their tempting wares, 
The airy nothings of their anxious cares ! — 
How alter'd now the scene ! The tranquil joys 
Of rural life chang'd thus to deafening noise ; 
Changed from the calm serene of distant hills, 
To ceaseless bustle, and a thousand ills ! 

But something must be done : — for Kenneth knows 
The sluggard has few friends, but many foes. 
And soon, himself and son employment found 
Amongst the labourers of the cultur'd ground : 
His daughters mild, still in their maiden-bloom, 


Well -placed in service, household cares resume; 
But soon, alas ! dishonoured and betray'd, 
The dupe of easy virtue both are made ! 
I>iseas'd, deserted, soon they droop, decay, 
And sink, unheeded, in life's early day !— 
Heart-rending grief distends the father's breast ; 
The frantic mother sinks to endless rest ; 
Th* afflicted brother seeks a kinder shore 
Beyond the wide Atlantic's distant roar. 


Unknown, unfriended, on the swanipy plaint 
He toils from day to day his bread to gain. — 
To gain a pittance, ah ! how hard the toil, 
Midst dank Savanna's loamy, loathsome soil ; 
Or clear the woodlands, fell the forests vast, 
Which since Creation stood each stormy blast j 
Where scaly monsters lurk, and hiss unseen, 
Uprear the crest, or rattle in dire spleen. 
Perchance the Pard, in couchant watch, fierce springs 
To seize the Woodman careless, as he sings, 
But, mark — a shaft shot from an Indian's bow 
Keen through the heart, quick lays the prowler low ! 
The fiercer savage, Man, thus, Man will spare, 
At times, when other game attracts his care. 
So doth the rampant monarch of the wood, 
Respect, tvhen sated with less noble blood, 
Creation's Lord — aWd by his godlike mein, 
Swift to his den retires unheard, unseen. • 

Ye Children of the Gael, though hard your fate ! 
You little dream what poignant woes await 
Those Trans-Atlantic schemes of which you hear, 
They're quicksands dire, which you have most to fear ! (12) 
Be not too rash — abide the coming day, 
When all your grievances shall fadeaway; 
As baneful weeds, obnoxious, cease to grow, 
When herbs salubrious in due season blow, 


Diffusing fragrance o'eir the cultured field, 

An earnest of the fruits anon they yield. 

—That day's at hand. With calm endurance still 

Support with dignity the present ill, 

As rocks amid the stofm serenely stand,—* 

And leave not rashly thus your native land. 

Your evils real, or your fancied wrongs 

To right, injustice to the State belongs. 

IV. A British Senate will espouse your cause, 
Conform to reason, justice, and our Laws. 
For 'tis a maxim sacred, good as great, 
<c All interests are subservient to the State." (13) 
—The State's an Unite Grand, a Perfect Whole, 
The General Weal must wisely all controul. 
'Tis meet that Order strictly be maintained, 
Lest Order, thro* Oppression, should be stain'd 
By deeds disgraceful to the human kind : 
The ties of Mutual Interest all must bind. (14) 
Then motives selfish, that in secret sway 
The greedy Great (who squander wealth away, 
Who still, relentless, grind the labouring poor, 
Exacting Back-rent, Fines, and thirst for more), 
Must be suppress'd : — Tis Justice that demands ! 
To All belong the Produce if our Lands. (15) 
— Be cautious then, ye Great ! — nor vainly movfc- 
Midst circles splendid, which can merely prove 



Your high condition— Vain and empty shew ! 
'Us thus, the needy great ones sink so low* 
Ah ! little wot they how th' industrious strive 
To barely keep their families alive ! 
If, haply, from their gains should somewhat more 
Afford a pittance to lay by in store 
For some lov'd daughter, mild in early bloom, 
That soon the matron's cares is to assume : 
For some unseen distress, lest want extreme, 
Should plunge them deeply into dis-estoem ; (16) 
When — (wo to greediness !) — a lease expires ; 
The Landlord's thirst of gold, how soon it fires ! 
And, lo ! some secret offers tempt the wretch, 
To let his land at rack-rents utmost stretch ! (17) 


With joy rapacious sees the gold brought forth ! 

— 'Tis thus some Great Ones desolate the North* 

It must not — shall not be — industrious Gael ! 

Things will be altered — Justice shall prevail ! 

Your humble sheds forsaken, shall again 

Enliven every hill and narrow plain ; 

Your heath-dad mountains and your £ea~girt shore 

Shall be restored, to quit them never more : 

Then joyfiil will ye climb the hoary steep, 

To tend your breeds of kine afid native sheep ; 

While stores in common, shall your w*nts supply,. (IS) 

la quest of finny myriads swift ye fly, 


With which the rivers, lakes, and seas abound, 
That lave your glens, and hills sublime surround. 
Thus, while secure from, civil broil or feud, 
The Patriarchal Age will be renew'd. 

V. Peace to the manes of each dread Foresire ! 
Who scorn'd the yoke of Rome, and Roman fire, 
Beyond the hoary Grampian's mighty mound 
Fixt his abode, and independence found ! 
—-Ere yet the Scythian wild, rude Saxon, Dane, 
Assumed the rights of conquest, but in vain, — 
In Cambria, Mona, Eirin, and these isles, 
A kindred people, Cbi/t«, Clio stiles, (19) 
Fix'd their abiding, there well pleas'd to find 
That Peace, Truth, Justice, Order, men would bind, 
Their true descendants knew not how to bow 
Obsequious to a haughty tyrant's brow, 
And leaving Luxury's voluptuous joys, 
Of Liberty they made a glorious choice ! 
Preferring Freedom thus, and Nature grand, 
They left th* invader an unpeopled land. 
While hospitality, truth, honour, peace, 
And all the fond endearments these increase, 
Mark'd all their actions, generous as great : — 
Behold how good, The Patriarchal State ! 

Let us recall tp mind the former days, 
When Celtic Bards twin'd their immortal lays ; 


when mighty CaiAbar, S£lma's deadly foe, 
Fell by CirriiuLiN's more than mortal blow : 
When Oscar, pride of heroes, pois'd the spear, 
O'er whom'MALViNA drop'd the tender tear, 
While Oss*an> aged, blind, .whose tresses grey 
Sigh'd on the brfceze responsive to his lay, 
Sang FiKgal's deeds in arms> — Temora's wars, 
And as he swept the strings diplay'd his scars 2 
*%H on a blasted oak, his harp unstrung, 
Joss^d by tbe stormy winds, neglected hung : 
*" e ^wither'd grass sighs o'er the narrow bed, - 
^*^re deep in dust is laid his Oscar's head ; 
■Ma^x-yina guides the Bard in silent woe, 
As ^^ournful moving onward soft and slow, 
io f^d wjth trembling hands the " four grey stones,'/ 
^ € ^inking sighs, and stifles rising groans. 
io ^oothe his sorrow keen, in some soft strain 
. ^^-vina wakes her harp, nor wakes in vain. 
1 »^ ^ggj mourner feel s th e so ft controul, 

ln^ "joy of grief," thrills thro' his inmost soul. 

C)h ! 'tis my Oscar's well-known voice I hear ! 
A"- ! why so seldom to my dreams appear ? 
"F^Viers of Toscar ! ope your airy halls, 
Unfold your portals — 'tis Malvina calls ! 
\ c ome, I come ! — my Oscar's voice I hear ! 
. 1 c ome my love ! MALTiNA'a steps are near 1 



How heaves my bosom ! — 'twas a dream— 'tig past ! 
Why from yon troubled lake ascends the blast 
That o'er the bending mountain's awful brow 
Howls wild along, rfending each blasted bough } 
Malvina's dream hath vanished from her view ! 
But, she beheld her Love ! — his voice she knew !•— 
His robe of mist the sun-beam hem'd with gold, 
Waving on high in many an airy fold : 
It was her Oscar's voice Malvina heard, 
Her Love, who seldom to her dreams appear'd. 
O son of Ossian of the powerful arm ! 
Still in my soul thou dwell'st — Oh shield from harm 
Her whose deep sighs breathe forth from early dawn, 
Whose tears descend when evening dews the lawn. 

" Once in thy presence I a beauteous tree, 
Whose branches spread around, and bloom'd for thee : 
But soon thy fall came like a blast from far, 
And laid me low midst elemental war ! 
The Spring return'd in mild refreshing showers ; 
No branch of mine e'er felt its genial powers ! 
The maidens saw me silent in the hall, 
And to their harps bewail'd my early fall \" 

" Why art thou mournful, maid ofLutka's stream? 
Say, was thy Oscar as the mornings beam, 
Graceful and stately moving in thy sight ; 
Thy pride, thy joy, thy raptured soul's delight ?" 


u Daughter of streamy Lutha !" Ossian says, 

u How pleasant in mine ear thy mournful lays ! 

The song of Bards departed in thy dreams 

Sooth'd thy sad soul, by Moruth's sounding streams. 

As from the chace return'd in lowly guise 

Sleep fell profound, and clos'd thy dewy eyes. 

Thy song Malvina soothes my heart-felt dole ! 

How sweet ! how pleasant ! — but, it melts the soul 1 

There is a joy in grief that calms all care, 

That glads the sadden'd heart when peace dwells there ; 

But sorrow wastes apace the breast that grieves, 

Daughter of mighty Toscar ! whilst it heaves : 

So falls the flower scorch'd by the noon-day blaze, 

Eve's dew-drops bow its head, but ne'er again shaH raise !'* 
# • . • # # * # (21) 

Times less remote the Historic Muse records, 
When rival chiefs, whose charters were their swords, 
Ruled with tyrannic sway the Grampian hills, (22) 
While Albion groan'd beneath the Feudal ills, 
WhaUtime old Rome her Freedom's race had run, 
O'erwhelm'd by Vandkl, ruthless Goth, and Hun ; 
While reign'd supreme wild Superstition's gloom, 
And arts and science sunk into one tomb ! 
War spread its ruin round ! — an Iron Age 
Display'd the horrid wonders of its rage ? 
Murder was manly deem'd — and deeds most dire, 
Day after day succeeded sword and fire ! 


Hence rose the Feudal State. High-minded chiefs 

Then dealt their wide demesnes in servile fiefs ; . 

As Vassals to the field the Gael were led, 

In causes not their own they oft-times bled, 

When strangely modePd to the varying hour, 

King, chief, or churchman, struggled each for power j 

The mind perverted — fancy on the wing> 

Attached all good to churchman, chief, or king ! 

Thus, in fierce conflicts were our Clans led forth> 

While civil discord raged along the North; 

Thus in rebellion wild they thrice arose, 

And thrice were vanquished by their kindred foes. (23) 

Meanwhile a British Senate, timely wise, 
Beheld its error with impartial eyes, 
With eagle-glance descry'd each chieftain brave 
Worthy a hero's garland, or his grave ! (54) 
Hence, from th' auspicious hour the Grampians smil'd, 
Each lonely glen and heath empurpled wild, 
In gladness gleam'd, when Freedom was bestowM, 
And hostile Clans have since in friendship glow'd. 

VI. Hence, from that era did Britannia feel 
Her own importance as One Commonweal ; 
No longer nominal our Union stands, 
But strength, by trade and commerce now commands : 
And from th* Hebridian shores and hills sublime 
Our Gv-l adventure into every clime ; 


As sailors bold, and soldiers ever brave, 

To meet the foe, or liberty to save : 

As merchants, lawyers, churchmen, statesmen too. 

Our Gael their fortunes with success pursue ; 

And skilful not a few are to be found 

In arts refined, and sciences profound. (25) 

If then a people, sound in form and mind, 
Tho* poor yet hospitable, frank and kind, 
Be worthy of regard as thus pourtray'd, 
(And true to nature is the semblance made), 
As firm supporters of our Empire Great, 
Behold them Doric pillars of the State ! 
Mark their importance, Guardians of our Laws ! 
Lose not a moment, but espouse their cause, 
Lest stern oppression, sanctioned by the Great, 
Become ere long the ruin of our State. 
A thousand various forms it now assumes, 
And every noble virtue thus consumes ; 
Till, to a system wrought, it bears full sway, 
And in its powerful march sweeps all away ! 
Among th' Ebudian Isles and Grampians hoar 
Oppression rages round each hill and shore. 
In silent sadness, solemn and profound, 
The gloom of Desolation spreads around ! 

B 3 






-J- • Before the Grampiqn mountains became so desolate, the 
natives erljoyed comforts suitable to their wants and manner 
of life. H. Picture of a Chieftain and his Clan as- 
sembled at a Feast. —Sole umpire in aU disputes, and 
possessing unbounded confidence, the Chieftain amicably 
adjusted all differences.— But, in these degenerate times, the 
Goal, having lost aU confidence in their Chiefs, are go- 
verned by selfish emotions, which excite jealousy, hatred, 
and discontent, but more especially a, strong propensity to. 
litigation, which, in its consequences, involves them in cer- 
tain ruin. III. TJie Gael no longer pursue with that en* 
thusiasm peculiar to mountaineers, under favourable cir- 
cumstances, their rural employments: — Deer, Roe, and 
other game have almost disappeared since the introduction 
of the Sheep-store system into the Grampian regions. — 
But, if the evil extended no farther than the annihilation 
of the Quadrupeds of the chace, and feathered game, all 


were yet, comparatively, well. IV. Emigration to Ame- 
rica illustrated by two well-known instances-*-Apostrophe 
— Warning — The British Parliament called on to in-> 
terfere, and^avert that greatest of evils which threatens the 
Community at large. — This most desirable good once ef- 
fected, our Gtid will then return, and enjoy the land of 
their forefathers in peace and security to latest ages* 
V. Even in the possible event of the Gajd increasing in nam* 
lers beyond the ordinary means of subsistence within their 
natural boundaries, — why suffer them to emigrate to a 
foreign country > whilst such vast tracts of waste-lands 
remain unoccupied throughout the British dominions? Al- 
lure them by reasonable prospects of bettering their condition, 
to situations congenial to their natural bias, andhabitudes,—, 
protect, and secure them in their Civil Liberties — and then, 
mark the happy effects.— Our resources in rural eco- 
nomy, the Fisheries, the manufacture of Soda, and mineral 
productions, immense as incalculable, not only with regard 
to individual interest, but also the substantial Wealth of 
the Nation, the sinews of power, and safety of the State, 





Ere stern Depopulation's ruthless rage, 
Swept round the Grampians, and laid waste an age ! 
Our lofty mountains beam'd in joy sublime, 
Of comforts conscious, suited to the clime. 
The Herdsman, mid the upland wilds, -in peace 
Enjoy'd the blessings of his store's increase : 
The Farmer, on the lowly strath surveyed 
The ripening yellow of the full-ear'd blade 5 
In mild contentment, with uplifted eye, 
He breath'd the incense of a grateful sigh : 
The patient Angler of the lonely glen, 
The most contemplative of active men) 
Whose face the smile of kind good nature wore>* 
Returned at close of day with fish in store. 
Th' advent' rous Fisher of the sea-girt Isle, 
WUh ardour keen renew'd his nightly toil 3 


Where smiled the bank, or frown'd the bending hill, 

Each river, lake, or sea-arm, own'd his skill : 

The strong swift hero of the mountain chace, 

To haunts of red-deer, and the roebuck race, 

Was wont to steal, and there in secret lie, 

Before the dawn shot ttrfbugh the orient sky : 

Not ihtfell tyrant's dart 'inongst human game, 

More sure, than sped the Stalker's deadly aim : (I) 

Or, haply wandering o'er the mountain's head, 

IJe'd rouse the timid tenant from her bed ; 

Or, still excursive, thro* some wider range, 

From deer to feather'd game his course he'd change 3 

Or, careless roaming, heard in early Spring 

The heath-cock's clarion, while on sounding wing, 

Unheeding danger, in exultance, shrill, 

He wak'd the slumbering echoes of each hill. (2) 

When Spring return'd in 60ft refreshing showers, 

These snow-clad mountains welcomed back the powers 

Of sunshine's genial warmth, to nature true, 

Which in gay gladness did their face renew. 

II. But, now, tho' Spring returns in joy serene, 
Tho' Summer spreads its verdure o'er the scene, 
Tho' Autumn every sanguine hope fulfils, 
Yet, ah ! how desolate the Grampian hills ! 
The Gael are banish'd ! strangers fill their room ! 
And desolation spreads around its gloom i— 


^o joys return to those who distant far 
*oil hard for bread,— or urge the toils of war j 
* *om home far distant,—- hopeless who deplore 
The joys departed that return no more ! 
But those who, favour'd by their partial lord, 
Remain inglorious, and rack-rent afford, 
Still find oppression hastening at their heels, 
And curse the system, whilst their heart it steels ! 
How strangely altered our once virtuous Ga^l !«— 
Ere thus oppression sore did them assail, 
In friendship mutual every hill and glen 
Were ruled by powerful, upright, steady men ; 
And, in due order, all the Chief ofcey'd, 
Whilst with a father's care he all things sway'd* 
Behold a Chief 1— at heart his kindred's we*l f 
Dispensing justice due, with upright zeal ; 
No discontents nor murmurings are heard, 
All seem convinced that just is each award. 
Behold ! — the hospitable board now spread, 
The Father of his People at its head 
Adorns the feast with welcome's smile benign, 
As circulates the shell with foaming wine, , 
A toast ! " our Chieftain's health !" All catch the sounds 
" Long life and health !" the joyous hall resounds. 
The pipe's high-sounding strains arrest the throng, 
Till deeds of former times inspire the song. 


Now strike the harp responsive to each lay, 
Till night be gone, and beams the dawn of day ! 
The soul-enchanting joys* Oh ! who can tell, 
While round and round they hand the brimful shell ! 
Joys like to those shall never more return ! 
Dim gleams the flame that erst did brilliant burn> 
When in the social hall each equal deem'd 
A man of worth, of courage true esteem'd > 
Shared all the comforts of their common Sire*. 
Who in return possess'd their love entire f 
Who did all differences soon appease* 
With mild authority and equal ease : 
> But now, self-interest guides the will alone. 
Strict honour, confidence, alas ! are gone. 
And base emotions that to wiles give birth, 
Disgrace the comeliness of manly worth ! 

These are degenerate days : Our alter'd Gael 
Have breath'd infectious air, — and nature frail 
Yields to those wiles that oft waylay the soul, 
Whilst sinking virtue loses all controul. 
And hence arise innumerable woes, — 
The best of friends become the worst of foes, 
The inmost secrets of the soul reveal, 
And wound those feelings that no time can heal : 
Or, eager on the watch, each hails the signs 
foreboding ruin to the best designs ; 


Rejoicing madly, as the time draws near 

That steeps in poverty the friend once dear ! 

And now, the Law presents — and, each quite sure 

Of prompt, strict justice, equitable, pure ! 

fielies on sound advice — forthwith departs (3) - 

For court, to combat lawyer's wily arts. 

He headlong plunges down th' impending steep 

in law's unbounded, fathomless, dread deep ! 

No more to raise his head above the wave, 

The harpies drag him to their hideous cave ! 

So, some bold Diver, eager for the prize, 
Sees not the shark that deep in secret lies ; 
And having sped — when lo ! the monster keen 
Snaps off a limb, and darts away unseen ! 
The hapless victim weltering in his gore, 
Shrieks in amaze— and sinks, to rise no more ! 

III. Ill-fated Gael ! content, and tranquil joy 
.No longer soothe your care, or calm employs !— 
Says of delight are gone ! your joys are fled ; 
Ye smite the rending breast, and bow the head ! 

Amid your mountain- wilds, and woody vales, 
You rear your herds no more — nor raise your sails 
"That skim along your lakes and round your isles, 
]Nor swell the sea-song that your toil beguiles. 
No more, as Spring advances, Summer nigh, 
All nature fresh, serene and clear the sky, 


The yearly journey ye were wont to go (4) 
To upland pasture-ranges — thither, slow 
To urge with tender care the heights along, 
The feeble firstlings, kine, and yearlings strong ; 
And as they wind far up the narrow vale, 
Their lowings wafted on the gentle gale 
Steal on the ear-erect of fawn and hind, 
Who bound away a secret haunt to find, 
Where in deep solitude her dappled charge 
She rears in safety, till he roam at large. 
Still journeying onward, now the joyous crew 
Far on the distant heath the Airidh view 
Where lonely bothans stud its lively green ; (5) 
And here and there a verdant spot is seen, 
Along the bending mountain's dark-brown base, 
Where snows dissolving in the solar rays, 
Scarce swell the amber rills as on they flow 
In gentle murmurs to the lake below, 
Whose ample bosom of cerulean hue, 
Inverts the scene sublime to nature true. 
Or, when the storm is up, around the shore 
The wild waves lift their heads, the loud winds roar 
If calm, serene and beauteous smiles the dawn, 
All bathed in dew is seen the bordering lawn ; 
The feather'd tribes the wooded cliffs among, 
Pour forth melodiously their early song ; 


The cuckoo, hark !. salutes the genial year, 
Our travellers start its distant voice to hear ; 
Its curious lay to imitate all try, 


The well-feign'd notes the hoary cliffs reply. 
To Western Isles, the sun now homeward bends ; 
As day declines, our slow-paced journey ends ; 
Not so the pleasing toil : — the younger train 
Search every corner of the narrow plain ; 
While matrons mildly to their sheds repair, 
With due dispatch to dress the frugal fare ; 
Around, the weary herds repose the while, 
And round the blazing hearths the gay groups smile, 
Unwearied on the heath-spread floor they play, 
Then sleep profoundly till the dawn of day. 

No more these joyous scenes of former timet 
Again return when Summer's sun high climbs, 
And o'er th' aerial peaks pours down his beams 
Along the windings of the nameless streams. 
No more the hunter, stalking o'er the heath, 
Sees gladly some green Airidh far beneath, 
Where he might rest the while — and sure to meet 
All -cheering welcome — kindly press'd to eat 
Of viands rural, oat-cake, milk, and cheese ; 
Regaled,-— the hunter then reclined at ease; 
Soon as returning strength his nerves would brace 
Along the craggy wilds he'd urge anew the chace. 


Slit now, the deer and roe have disappeared, 
And, save where grouse are unmolested rear'd, 
And well preserv'd from poacher's deadly aim, 
Despoil 'A the Grampians seem of feather 'd game* 
No more the sable heath-cock bursts away 
On whirring wing when peeps the dawn of day : 
No more in plumy pride and stately air 
Is seen the crested cappercailzie rare : (6) 
The coy dull ptarmigan, and plover grey, 
To falcons now are left the only prey : 
The raven, carion-gorged, croaks to his nest> 
The blood-stain'd eagle sated towers to rest : 
No more the snowy swan sails on arch'd wing 
In graceful pride the lake, in early spring : 
Save, where the wild-duck builds her secret nest 
Lined with the downy velvet of her breast ; 
Or where the coot its artless structure weaves 
Among the sedges of dry flags and leaves ; 
Or, where the slow-wing'd crane ascends on high, 
Or lonely bittern creaks her harsher cry ; 
No feather'd tribes disporting now appear 
To mark the seasons of the circling year !— 
No more the wind-hoof 'd hart, the hind and fawn 
Bound o'er the mountain's brow, or skim the lawn ; 
Their wonted haunts polluted, now they fly, 
And hopeless, pine in secret, droop and die.— 


Ah ! did the ill rest there — all yet were well- 
Speak ye disconsolate,! who best can tell, 

Ye wretched wanderers — without a horn* 
Turned out of your possessions — left to roam 
The world's wide wilderness — a void most drear ! 
'Twould melt a heart of adamant to hear 
A father's moan, a mother's frantic scream, 
The. cry of innocents, who little dream 
What woes await them ! — from their kindred torn, 
Outcasts neglected, helpless and forlorn ! 
Yet, midst the cheerless gloom doth Hope remain ? 
1*> where she points beyond the western main — 
Ah ! sad alternative ! — to go ? — to stay ? 
Stern famine's aspect ! — bread — but far away ! 

IV. What means yon gathering vast that crowds the 
Whose voice ascends like ocean's distant roar ? 
Is it a day of mirth— a feast of joy ? 
Ah no ! Fair prospects, false as fair decoy 
Th' unwary multitude to western climes, ' / 

In hopes to taste the sweets of former times. 
But, O deluded throng I ye little know 
What poignant hardships you must undergo ; 
To gain subsistence, youth and strength must waste, 
The bread of idle ease you ne'er shall taste ; 
Hard is your toil beneath those sultry skies, 
In vain ye wipe the brow that never dries ! 



Behold ! the throng ascend the vessel's side — 
It heaves now onward thro* the swelling tide. 
Far in the distance, as the sun departs, 
They view their native hills with aching hearts ! 
Ye willing exiles ! speak who best can tell, 
What pangs are felt to bid a long farewell 
To all most dear left on a native shore, 
In doubt if e'er you shall behold them more ; 
What anguish keen distends the heaving breast 
Of him who looks his last, and mournful sinks to rest 2 

*Tis midnight drear — Deep silence reigns around, 
And mariners appall'd start at each sound ; 
While signs portentous, but too sure presage, 
The brooding tempest's wide destructive rage : 
Sound sleep th' unconscious emigrants the while— 
The sleep of death shall soon their cares beguile ! 
The storm commences — -now it rages high, 
Wild foaming billows mingle with the sky, 
And while white bursting waves the ship's prow dash, 
The lightning's livid gleams now quickly flash : 
Thunders peal round th' horizon's awful gloom, 
And ocean yawns a* wide vast watery tomb ; — 
Down, headlong down, while surgy wild waves roar, 
The vessel plunges — and is seen no more ! 

Behold amidst the elements' dire war 
A sail to leeward, labouring onward far ! 


Now bid from view by yon huge billowy steep, 

She braves the dangers of the raging deep, 

Again emerging, upright climbs the wave, 

And 'scapes the horrors of a yawning grave ! 

Whence speeds the storm-toss'd bark ? From western isles, 

Her crew the dupe of mercenary wiles ! (6) 

Deeoy'd from home, for Trans-Atlantic shores 

Embark'd they with their all, their well-eam'd -stores !-— 

The storm abates apace. The sea- sick throng 

(While all the pangs of death their ills prolong, 

LockM under hatches fast lie panting there") 

Implore in vain to breathe in open air ! 

Meanwhile the mariners unfurl the sails : 

The vessel glides along on gentle gales. 

Mid-Summer's fervid noon now reigns supreme ; 
Light airs arise not, — heated in extreme 
TV horizon lurid, seems one smouldering fire : 
And when to night-repose the crew retire, 
They sleepless languish, pent in narrow space (7) 
Between the steaming decks, like Afric's ill-starr'd race ! 

The Febrile Fiend high on the top^mast smiles, 
And eyes askance the sickening seaiAn's toils \ 
Then darts a look amongst the crew below, 
And laughs to scorn their keen increasing woe ! 
No skilful arm to counteract his power 
On board appears — ah no ! in evil hour 



The throng abandoned to their wayward fate 
Implore assistance — but implore too late ! (8) 
Their eye-lids seal'd in death's long-wish'd-for sle< 
They one by one are drop'd into the deep t 
Anon at midnight- watch, when all is still, 
Whole families (thus freed from human ill) 
Are plunged at once into the dead-calm sea, 
Their souls launch'd down the wave of dread eterni 

The Febrile Fiend still bent on deeds of death, 
Pours westward far his pestilential breath ; 
He leaves the 6ickly crew — and onward flies 
To fire the region of Columbian skies : 
On high he scowls wrap'd in his yellow robe, r 
And dooms to instant death one-half the globe ! — 
Dire oonsternation seizes every soul, 
And human kindness loses all controul : 
The friend his friend forsakes, — the man his wife, 
Regardless even of his dearer life ; 
The mother flings the infant from her breast, 
To sink midst thousands in eternal rest ! — (9) 

The sad survivers of our wailful crew 
Far in the distance dimly to the view 
Descry the promised land. — But ah ! in vain : 
They find no home beyond the western main ! 
Down to the beach Columbians in array, 
>With charge of bayonet chace our crew away ! 


Defenceless, terrified, lost In amaze, 

With hollow, glistening eyes they backward gaze 5 

Rejected and forlorn, the hopeless Gael 

Retrace their steps, and seek their loathsome jail* (10) 

heaven ! and is it thy mysterious will, 
(Thy ways inscrutable to human skill) 
Thus, while the many suffer, shall the few 
Lost in high mirth, their mad career pursue ? 
Shall men be banish'd from their native scenes, 
Whilst alien flocks roam o'er these vast demesnes ; 
Where late a hardy race in gladness smiled, 
Pleased with their lot, in gay contentment toil'd, 
Gave to their masters cheerfully their due* 
And render'd homage with affection true ? 

Take warning, Great Ones ! for the time's at hand, 

When vengeance shaft o'ertake a guilty land*— 

Where will ye hide your heads bow'd down in shame, 

Your comforts blasted, as your blighted fame ? 

Ere yet too late reflect — redress the wrong, 

Redeem the injur'd rights, that still prolong 

Th' alarming symptoms which the soul appal 

Of desolation and our country's fall ! — 

Ere yet too late, O save our native land, 

Britannia's Senate ! firm and free-born band 1 

Will but the good — and gloriously prevail I 

Save thus at once our country, and our Gael } 



Soon will that ancient race again be seen 
Enlivening all the renovated scene ; 
The smile of joy will brighten every face, 
As sweets domestic spread from place to place, 
Along remotest glens, and mountains steep ; 
And men shall multiply, instead of sheep! 

V. But, if in numbers, as the industrious hive 
The Gael increase— continue so to thrive, 
As true to instinct, keen in enterprize, 
Laborious, persevering, constant, wise ; 
Why thus compell'd to leave their native land, 
To toil fpr bread on some far distant strand ? 
If emigrate they must — why should they roam 
To foreign climes ? — Allure them nearer home.—- 
Since vast demesnes which seem but barren soil 
Become soon fertilized by skilful toil ; 
To those neglected wastes, invite our Gael $ 
The hand of culture early will prevail : 
Each hill, vale, woodland, far-stretch'd wild or fen, 
Will swarm with peaceful and laborious men: (11) 
And as increase their stores, in numbers too, 
They multiply, and industry pursue : 
Hale, strong in body, firm as sound in mind 5 
Courageous, yet good-natured, frank and kind ; 
Though mild, not passive— jealous of their right ; 
And if invaded, boldly each will fight ; 

^f danger fearless — mark them in the field, 
They fall, or conquer — for they scorn to yield ! 
So thus an apiary well-stored with swarms, 
^fho, though possessed of — yet ne'er fly to arms, 
Save when invaded, — then, in self-defence 
To combat, fall, or conquer most propense, 
^-araged, forthwith they pour upon the foe, 
•Aad shafts envenom'd lay the spoilers low ! 
■But few survive the carnage of the day, 
-Extermination ends the fearful fray ! 
Egregious errors, fatal to the cause 
^** those oppressed, have crept into our laws, 
*^*Hch wisely were intended to controul 
"* **fc alarming ill— ^and benefit the whole. (12) 
"^ e »ume, ye Senators, the subject grand, 
**a* ill which threatens most our native land, 
^population !— Mark the crisis too \ 
^iiig every object into general view ; 
^^ ^igh well their import with a stedfast zeal, 
^ godlike guardians of Britannia's weal ! 
T^he hills of Caledonia still retain, 
^^^ do the islands of the western main), 
**^ir wonted ranges fit for rearing store ; 
*^*Xd culture still will fertilize them more. 
^Otect the Gael — secure to them a home, 
^^ong our hills and isles— they'll cease to roam 


To lands beyond the wide Atlantic main, 
And joyful bless their native wilds again ; 
The cause injurious of their strange disgust, 
When once appeas'd by what is meet and just, 
Will cease to be remember'd evermore; 
Haste then, ye Senators ! their rights restore. 
Then every hill and vale, and verdant isle, 
Will yield the produce of the cultured soil ; 
And live-stock multiply, and still encrease ; 
While plenty smiles clasp'd in the arms of peace. 

Though rich the pasture-range of each green height,- 
Where dawns the day, where fades declining light ; 
Though each green isle whose sea-girt tangled rocks 
Resound with lowing herds and bleating flocks 5 
Though finny myriads swift in ceaseless play 
Glide through each sea-arm, dart around each bay, 
Yet think not those are all the Gael possess 
Pf nature's gifts-r-no*— others, deem'd not less 
In value, spread around each rocky shore — 
—Sea-ware abounds, a rich exhaustless store; 
By fire transmuted into soda's form, 
It floats no more upon the heaving storm, 
To soap converted — see the laundress trim, 
Plunge mid the vessel frothing to the brim ; 
With keen dexterity and eager pains, 
The linen cleansing thus from all its stains* 

-Tiy chymic art new combinations rise ; 
Tis crystal, clear as the cerulean skies : 
A. mirror true to beauty's lovely face, 
Reflecting all the charms of female grace : 
Or pendant midst the splendid dome's bright blaze, 
* n sparkling brilliance darts ten thousand rays : 
•Brimful, it beams midst floods of foaming wine, 
"eld sacred to the joys of Bacchus' rites divine ! — 

Nor this the whole — there still are to be found 
^haustless treasures teeming under ground 
^* fossils precious, mines of richest ore, 
^ u r Grampian regions boast the choicest store, 
labia's granite, Egypt's marble blocks, 


v *£ not in beauty with Hebridia's rocks. 
^-*Ur Alpine wilds with porphyrie abound, 

** earth's vast bosom where can such be found ? (13) 
^4ark well, ye Senators of sterling sense, 

^x 1 home-resources are in truth immense ! — 

* ° Tear the firstlings of the fruitful fold, 
*°" fertilize the glebe, the plough to hold, 

* **^ sounding scythe to wield with mighty sweep 
^*>ng the winding stream, or verdant steep, 

*** store with care on hill, in narrow vale, 

* **e milky produce of the flowing pail ; 

* *> sort the fleece — the warp and woof prepare, 
And ply the loom with diligence and care ; 


To heave the fish-net, sink the baited lure, 
Anon the finny tribes to thus secure ; 
To reap the marine harvest of the shore, 
And change to soda all the precious store : 
The quarry's ponderous masses to display ; 
And raise the treasures of the mine to day} 
Are employs various, and resources grand 
As inexhaustible and near at hand. 
Hence hand in hand shall health and rustic toil, 
And sweet content, and rural virtue smile; 
While private industry must wealth create, 
The sinewy powers and safety of the state 
Will thus be strengthen^ — stedfast shall endure, 
And shall to latest ages Freedom thus secure* 






•*• While some are forced to emigrate to a foreign coun- 
try y others from cltoice leave the place of their nativity in 
pursuit of fortune, either from motives of ambition, or of 
avarice: some ofwhomreturning with all the prejudices and. 
follies of unprincipled, ignorant upstarts, display their af- 
fectation of Eastern splendour, by characteristic traits of 
vanity ridku 7f nis in the extreme. II. apostrophe — Disco- 
very of India and America — Consequences of wealth and 
luxury on Civil Society — Decline and fall of a nation 
— Often, ashen seemingly at the lowest state of degrada- 
tion, arouses and regains its lost liberties, taking ven- 
geance on oppressors — Final retribution. III. The late 
American war — Our GaJel led against their kindred who 
had emigrated at a former period to America — A Father 
kills his own Son. IF. Will man, abhorring murder, learn 
the art ty war no more ? — Peace — its comforts and bless- 
ings to the human race— but in a particular manner to the 


inhabitants of the Grampians and Western Islands, V. The 
introduction of the Sheep-store system specified — The alien* 
bree%, in all respects inferior to the native, endure in a re- 
markable manner the inclemency of the seasons — Depth 
of Winter — A storm — Deer-stalker and his dog perish 
among the snow. VI. Many are lost during the Winter 
in returning from the low country — Episode of a poor 
widowed maniac who had lost her two sons in a storm in 
crossing the Grampians. VII. Thoughtless Landholders, 
who spend in riot and wantonness their income at a dis- 
tance from home, called on to reflect on the fatal conse- 
quences of depopulation before it le too late — Others of a 
different -stamp, getting a good example, and acting in 
conjunction with Parliament, may retrieve the existing 
evils — and eventually save our native country from ruin. 




While some to distant climes are forced to roam, 

For fame or fortune others leave their home ; 

Ambitious thus for riches or for fame, 

Domestic sweets they barter for a name ! — 

O vain delusive grandeur ! — what is wealth, 

To native home, and peace, and precious health ? 

Will all the wealth of either Ind' avail, 

When youth's enjoyments, strength and health all fail ? 

Ah no ! — See where yon modern Gothic pile, 

But lately rear'd — its huge fantastic stile 

Bespeaks the owner's poor, perverted taste ; — 

The passing stranger smiles to see such waste 

Of stone and mortar ! — View the pleasure- ground* 

Lo, what a sweep of country marks its bounds ! 

No skilful hand laid out with tasteful care 

The sylvan scene which wears an orient air; 


The would-be Naloh, self-approving, sees 
All India in the pile, the lawns, the trees, 
He hears the Ganges murmur in the brook, 
The bamboo-grove sigh in the ozier-nook ; 
The peacock's hideous screams he loves to hear, 
It soothes remembrance, as it charms his ear ; 
Not half so sweet the lark's shrill matin-song, 
Nor blackbird's evening-lay the woods among ; 
In truth, he sees no object, hears no sound, 
Unless in each. an India-charm be found. — 
*Tis India, orient India, gilds the whole, 
The joys of Hindostan supreme reign in his soul. 

Press not the muse his memoirs to disclose, 
Nor ask how many victims, wrung with woes, 
Unmoved the cool oppressor calmly view'd, 
While plans accurst he steadily pursued.— 
Revolving deep in thought, lo, mute she stands, 
Yet tells the tale of woe with speaking hands ; 
With finger press'd to lips she heaves a sigh, 
And points, but looks not to the orient sky. 

Ye mild, ye peaceful sons of Brahma's race ! 
Why should the children of the Gael disgrace 
Their name immortal as your deathless sire, 
And urge his coming in his kindling ire ! — (1) 

II. Eastern and western worlds ! — what horrid scenes 
Of rapine, murder — (execrable means !) 

"*i^ve ye not witness'd, riches to procure 

*^*id all the joys the covetous allure ! 

"*^id then Columbus brave th' Atlantic main 

***) quest of worlds remote for sordid gain ? 

^^as it to conquer and despoil Peru, 

^*izzaro led his sanguinary crew ? 

^)id Mexico's vast empire lowly bend 

~lo blood-stain'd Cortez, treasures thence to send ? 

i)id Gama point his prow to eastern climes 

~To lead forth Europe to commit such crimes ? 
"Was it for gold that Albuquerque led 
His hostile squadrons — and too surely sped 
To India's yellow plains — with powerful hand 
By conquest's right, ordain'd a distant land, 
Supreme disposer of vast India's stores, (*2) 

V And gem'd in orient gold proud Portugal's bright shores ? 
" No!" sahh the statesman sage, *' 9 tis commerce, trade, 
Inspired the spirits who discoveries made ; 
That ranged from pole to pole through seas unknown, 
And made the wealth of distant worlds their own. 
" 'Tis navigation ; boundless commerce, trade, 
Procure life's comforts— wealth's voluptuous aid— 
Placed thus at ease, man cultivates his mind, 
becomes more civiliz'd, humane, and kind. 
Gold calls forth luxury— our wants increase ; -' 

divided labour yields the arts of peace : 


Its tokens multiplied procure the means 

Of national defence : — hence war's dire scenes !— 

" When public weal on private vice depends, 
Corruption thrives, and gains its sordid ends. 

f€ Hence, 'tis most manifest — gold is the soul 
Of social order's wisely -plan' dcontroul I" — (3) 

III. When wealth abounds, a nation's sun bright shi* 1 ^ 
Reach'd once its zenith — soon it then declines, 
And sets in deep-dark night — no more to rise, 
No more relume fair Freedom's genial skies, 
Till in convulsive throes the nations round 
Rous'd from lethargic rest at trumpet's sound ; 
The call to vindicate their injur'd rights ; 
When man transformed a hero dauntless fights 
In freedom's sacred cause — the foe assajls — 
Drags down oppression- — and at last prevails !— 

So when on high the last trump's fearful blast 
Awakes the dead, .when Time's brief reign is past :— 
Lo ! Heaven's high portals open — forth at once 
Ten thousand thousand cherubims advance : 
The Omniscient Judge amidst the host appears 
Descending onward 'mong the nether spheres : 
His sapphire throne in orient radiance beams ; 
His foot-stool vast a rolling planet seems : 
Near earth's remotest verge the mighty throng 
In dread deep silence slowly moves along : 


TV archangel sounds — the conscious mountains quake. 

Earth to its centre reels — the dead awake.— 

The trembling multitude amid the gloom 

Await, in high suspence, their awful doom : 

While still small sounds that welcome into bliss 

In holy rapture thrill : High o'er the abyss 

Prepared for damned ghosts, shall tyrants hear 

Their merited award transpierce the ear, 

" Depart ye ciirsed— everlasting ire 

Pursue and plunge you into quenchless fire : 

For you the sons of men too long endur'd 

(By gold insnar'd, by luxury allur'd), 

Low slavery's yoke, oppression's galling rod, 

While you, ye scorners, mock'd the Almightt God. 

" Welcome ye faithful— enter ceaseless joy 

Your just inheritance — henceforth employ 

Existence endless— swell high symphonies 

Through boundless space, and new-created skies/' 

III. What time oppression o'er Columbia reign'd, 
Revolt upreai-'d his head — while yet enchain'd, 
In giant strength his manacles in twain 
Infuriate snapp'd**— and claimed his rights again ! 
Britannia roused to arms indignant flew, 
And in her kindling wrath her children slew. 
— So Medea (monstrous !) bared her murderous arm, 
Imbrued it in her offspring's heart-blood warm, 


And from her gory grasp child after child 

She flung, then rais'd the recking blade, and madly smil'd 

— 'Twas when Columbia's sons will'd to be free, 

Astonish'd Europe heard the high decree, 

That Britain huii'd her thunderbolts afar 

Beyond the Atlantic's bound in hideous war ; 

Then forth in hostile train our Gaejl were led, 

And in the dubious cause reluctant Med ; 

Their kindred meeting in th' ensanguin'd field, 

They fear to conquer, as they scorn to yield — 

When kin meets kindred in rebellious fight, 

O God what carnage I — what a woeful sight ! 

How mothers mourn i how orphans !— widows wail 1 

Nature appal'd bows down and draws the veil !— 

Meanwhile new levies destined to regain, 
By force of arms beyond the western main, 
Britaimia's claims, lost empire, homage due 
By means coercive thus her aims pursue, 
—The woody swamps along the Atlantic flood 
The royal army gains, and pants for blood : 
What carnage dreadful in thy name, O George ! 
When " blood enough" the dogs of war did gorge ! 

Many a warrior guiltless gnaws the ground.— 
And oft, alas 1 are many to be found 
By stern compulsion soldiers 'mong the files, 
And some the victim of insidious wiles. 


Old Kenneth, thus, had basely been betray'd, 
(Against his will a British soldier made), 
To fill the measure of his mortal woes 
Is now led forth against his kindred foes ! 

War's rude emotions soon pervert the mind, 
And all its direful duties deep combined, 
To deeds of horror reconcile the soul ;— 
Man thus tcansfonn'd, soon loses mild controul ; 
Whatever service destined to pursue 
He fearless faces like a Roman true ! 

Adorn' d in all the grace of manly charms 
As form'd by nature-— high in feats of arms, 
Young Ranald (Kenneth's son) stood thus confest. 
What time Revolt uprear'd his awful crest, 
Our hero flew to arms, and join'd the van, 
To gain distinction— prove himself a man 
Worthy the race of heroes whence he came, 
And stamp immortal honour on his name. 
Th' injuries of his family unredress'd, 
Revenge fix'd empire in his daring breast, 
Wild and impetuous* keen, without controul 
Stirr'd up the mighty workings of his soul. 

" To arms'! to arms!" Rebellion gave the word. 
Columbia's heroes wave the sheathless sword. 
In hostile attitude, the gay the grave 
As patriots rash, their freedom thus to save. 

» 2 


A chosen leader forth young Ranald came, 
For vengeance panting, liberty, and fame. 
The post of honour now to him assigned, 
He guards with steady, cool, determin'd mind. 

'Tis night. The vanguard centinels on watch, 
Each on his 'vantage ground oft lists to catch 
The fancied whisper. Now the moon rides high, 
And clear as mid-day seems the cloudless sky. 
As near the confines of a matted wood, 
Beneath an oak the gray-hair'd Kenneth stood, 
Deep lost in thought, he sighs the hours away 
Unmindful of th' approach of dawning day, — 
Joys past come floating on the mental view, 
How sweetly sad — but ah ! how painful. too- 
Pleased once in humble ease he had a home, 
Nor wanted aught, nor wish had he to roam ; 
No. Kenneth ask'd not wealth — his lowly state 
Saved him from envy's greediness or hate — 
His cot, his croft, the hill that rose behind 
And shelter'd all from Winter's stormy wind, 
That yielded pasture for Ills little store, 
'Twas all his soul desir'd, nor wish'd for more. 
But sad reverse ! — no more the cot, the hill, 
Claim any care — and what more precious still 
His soul's lov'd objects — wife and children dear ! 
Ah tender retrospect !— -the big-swoln tear 


Rolls down his cheek— his wife is dead and gone ! 
His daughters too— and now his only son 
An exile ! — Hark ! behind a rustling noise 
Alarms the pensive warrior — soft a voice 
Whispers the watch-wordr— quickly Kenneth knows 
The treacherous sign, and dreads surrounding foes 
In silence stealing on the slumbering host : 
IV alarm he gives, but still retains his post. 
Headlong a daring foe rush'd on his steel 
At once transfixt— in agony did reel ; — 
Nor groan escap'd him — as he gnaw'd the ground 
Life's purple stream gush'd from the mortal wound, 
He rais'd his head, and fetch'd a deep, deep sigh, 
On Kenneth cast a languid death-fixt eye. 
" Hadst thou, old man," he said, " an only son, 
Long lost to thy embrace — far distant gone— • 
Think then, O think, if in the flower of age 
He fell inglorious midst the battle's rage 
Unknown to fame; — unheard of among those 
Who hurl dire vengeance on their country's foes, 
How thy fond heart would bleed ? — Thine aged arm 
More fortunate than mine hath wrought this harm : 
Here — take this sword, the gift once of my sire, 
Kenneth his name — now — let me — thus — expire !" 
" My son my son !" exclaims the maddening foe* 
And aims at his own heart the fatal blow ! 

J) 3 


More precious far are found our native sheep, 
Healthful, and vig'rous,— easier far to keep, 
As food more delicate — their wool soft, fine, 
Fit for the warmest woof of smallest twine ; 
Inured to every change, without disease, 
They bear the Winter's rigour, Spring's keen breeze: 
When Summer sultry grows, by instinct led, 
They gain cool heights to nip the tender blade : 
When cold Autumnal dews through night descend ; 
They seek the shelter'd nook 2 When signs portend 
The brooding tempest's range — when sleet and snow 
Drive o'er the heath, and fill the vale below, 
They still by instinct, weather well the storm, 
And brave a thousand deaths of various form. (5) 

Mid-winter reigns. *Tis night — the moon serene 
Holds cloudless on her way :— Anon are seen 
White heaving clouds as rapid onward driven 
By gales unheard along the face of heaven. 
—The mountain caverns groans-high howls the wind 
Among the leafless wood. Roe, hart, and hind 
Their shelter'd haunts they look for, but in vain, 
And shuddering gaze o'er all the trackless plain. 

Meanwhile the stalker wanders through the storm 
Alone from hill to hill — no well known form 
Js seen to guide his steps. — appal'd he shrinks 
from dangers hidden, pits, or awful brinks-r- 

doubtful he struggles through the dreary waste, 
And faint and slow stalks on — now hounds in haste, 
Fearful lest night's deep shades fast gathering round 
Overtake his utmost speed. His faithful hound, 
Companion of his toil, close by his side, 
Forsakes him not whatever may betide — 
Tired out at length, and to their fate resigned, 
The hapless pair, now on the snow reclin'd, 
Sleep steals apace lethargic o'er his eyes, — 
Now in the sleep of death he lowly lies 1 
His spirit wings the storm — away, away ! 
It speeds to realms of everlasting day. 
His dog howls through the night-~-but long in vain-* 
He ne'er his master shall awake again ! 
And o'er his stiflTning corse he howls his last : 
Their woes have ceased— their anguish keen is past ! — 
VI. Ah ! many a wanderer through these regions drear, 
Caught in the midnight storm, no more appear, 
Till Spring's return, when on the dark-brown heath, 
Their bones are found beneath the melting wreath. (6) 
Many a tale of woe remains unknown, 
Save to a mournful few that softly moan, 
And feel the soothing joys of grief serene, 
In some lone narrow vale, unheard, unseen. 

Hark ! — 'tis the sweetly wild sad song of woe, 
That pn the gentle breeze steals soft and slow 


Adown the glen where hangs yon woddy height, 
Beneath which stands a cot half hid from sight ; 
Its owner childless, widow'd, sits alone, 
And often thus she vents her heavy moan, 
While o'er the dreary heath afar, serene, 
She views her native vale but dimly seen. 

When half the narrow plain, at early day 
Floats in the rising sun's rich yellow ray ; 
Or when declining light in richer glow 
Gilds all th' aerial hues that gently flow 
Along the distant hills — and twilight nigh 
Steals slowly on — till night ascends the sky 
All star-bestuded— or the pale-faced moon 
Relumes the bending cliff at night's cold noon. 
There sits the matron lonely, steep'd in grief, 
And wails, to give her broken heart relief : 
Belief alas ! — to her no joy returns !— 
Oft thro' the livelong dreary night she mourns ; 
And crazM she often rends the troubled air, 
And smites her heaving breast and tears her hair : 
Oft wildly shrieks, and chides the long delay 
Of those she still believes far, faff aw*y«— 
Tear not thy hoary tresses — scream not so, 
Distracted mother !— ended- is thei* woe.—* 

Save on the' pair of paradise alone, 
From age to age the star of day ne'er shone 

On more content and sweet domestic peace 
Than this lorn widow, ere her mate's decease, 
Enjoy'd unmingled. — Then indeed began 
A train pf ills that ceage but with life's span* 
Already had the sweeping mischief spread 
from glen to strath, from hill to mountain-head : 
The low of cotintless herds was heard no more, 
**teir haunts resound the btesrt of fleecy store r 
^rti'd out to shift at large the ancient race 
^ native tenants, to give others place, 

***ose sprdid aliens, who for greed of gain 
°*sook the ranges of the southern plain. 
Among the mournful many left to roam, 

^ur pair And little one* bereft of home, 

^As humble cottagers erect a shed, 

-And toil from day to day to gain their bread. 
^Even in that lowly state, content, and mild, 
They labour'd cheerfully— while hope beguil-'d 
The anxious moments of the mother's care, 
And o'er her sleeping boys the secret prayer 
In sighs ascended heavenward morn and eve-*** 
Meanwhile their fell they nobly to retrieve, 
Strain every nerve,— In vain, alas ! they strive 
With patient industry to keep themselves alive. 
Along the narrow plain a fever spread ; 
The father soon was numbered 'mong the dead : 


The widowM mourner reft of every stay, 

To rear her orphans strove both night and day ; 

Her kindred neighbours mindful of her state 

Feel all the sorrows of her hapless fate, 

And kindly soothe and aid her in distress, 

And as -her boys wax strong, her woes wane less ; 

In youthful bloom — they urge the manly toil, 

With skilful hand they cultivate the soil, * 

The narrow croft before their mother's door 

Yields the scant comforts of their yearly store. 

To see the wonders of the lowland plains, 
(Where, if report speaks true, great are the gains 
The mountain swain acquires, who mows the fields, 
Or grasps the golden sheaves the harvest yields), 
Our Gael down from the Grampians wont to speed !{ 
To sweep with powerful arm the field or mead, 
And thence returning to their hills again, 
Exulting to their kindred shew'd their gain. 

The Summer past, — and Harvest near at hand, 
Our matron's sons both join a reaper-band, 
To fenny Lincoln sped, where Ague reigns : 
They feel around them bound his icy chains, 
His lightnings darting thro' their shuddering frames, 
They feel the rage of hell-tormenting flames. 
Altho* their woes did eloquently plead, 
Repose they found not, till benorth the Tweed. (7) 

iTieir little all now gone — their strength impair'd, 
Ilome distant for ! — and how their mother far'd ! 
I)id rend their hearts — their kindred too 
^Jow outcasts wander, as a vagrant crew !— 
Their mother bending in the vale of years, 
Sits in her lowly cot all bath'd in tears, 
JV>r winter winds roar in the desert glen ; 
-And long she look'd for her two stately men !— 
But, distance — winter — stare them in the face. 
They homeward tend — but move with lingering pace. 
Amid the Grampian wilds, weak, faint, forlorn, 
Far on the heath they wait return of morn : 
And long they look — but ah ! they look in vain, 
No peep of dawn to them returns again ! 
Loud howls the eoming blast o'er wastes of snow ; 
Down sink our travellers in hopeless woe — 
Among the ice-hung cliffs the whirlwind high 
In all its fury rages— o'er the sky 
t)ark clouds in form sublime heave up to sight, 
^Jew horrors adding to the noon of night — 
Ah, little knows their aged mother where 
Iler sons lie shivering in the piercing air ! 
Tear not thy hoary tresses— shriek not so 
iDistracted matron !— ended is their woe ! 
Thy sons, no more, preventing each- desire, 
■At close of day, shall trim thy evening fire : 



No more u the tale -of other times" shall sing, 

Till gloomy Winter brightens into Spring ; 

Thy little farm and cot, and scanty store, 

Their filial duty shall require no more ; 

Midst Winter's storms, Autumnal winds and rain, 

The hill together ne'er shall climb again. 

Ne'er shall they cull along the nameless stream, 

The wild flowers opening to the Spring's mild beam* 

When Summer's lengthening day, o'er mountains spies 

Peurs genial warmth on nature's driBy bed, 

No more beyond the midway heights to feed 

The lowing herds to distant glens shall lead. 

—Alas poor widow !•— childless too !— forlorn 1 — 

Bereft of all ! — no more at early morn 

Th' accustom'd cake thy willing hands shall knead, 

(A morsel choice) as starting from their bed 

Ere peep of dawn, when all the hamlets still, 

And day gleams faintly on the snow-clad hill,, 

To see that all be well, secure from harm 

In sheltered ranges comfortable, warm — 

When weary with the toil, at dose of day, 

And homeward bending on their trackless way, 

No more the blazing faggot seen afar, 

Shall strike their eager gaze, a guiding-star : 

In vain, O wretched mother, you prepare 

The frugal meal your sons can never share ! 


In vain, when young and old collected round, 
Where harmless mirth and simple joys abound, 
While tales of old, or sprightly dance or song, 
Beguile the Winter nights, cold, dark, and long. 
In vain, alas ! with anxious, longing look 
You watch their coming o'er yon ice-bound brook 1 
They come no more. Stretch'd lifeless on the heath 
From home afar, their graves the snowy wreath I 
Tear not thy hoajry tresses — shriek not so 
Distracted mother !-r-*nded is their woe ! 
Poor, childless, widow'd- thing ! ye bowl in vain, 
Alas ! no joy to you returns again ! 
— Once every comfort beam'd around her shed, 
Thougn now, save hope, are all her comforts fled. 
Placed in the golden mean of rural life, 
How blest her lot when first she smiled the wife, 
The joyous mother, and the mistress mild, 
While sweets domestic every care beguil'd ; 
Till that sad day when wam'd to quit the fann> 
(And all the country round first took th' alarm) 
Then pale-faced poverty, neglect, disgrace, 
With hideous aspect stared her in the face ! 
An outcast among thousands doom' roam 
The world's wide wilderness thrust from their native home ! 
VII. Ye gay, voluptuous, affluent, thoughtless lew ! 
How light ye hold the ills that reach not you ! 


You heed not what th' industrious poor annoy, 
While in the madening whirl of frantic joy 
Ye riot wildly!— or, profusely gay, 
Iri splendour deck'd, ye grace the ball or play, 
The midnight masquerade, that motley scene, 
Where fashion, folly, feeble pride are seen. 

Then, timely wise, arrest your wild career, 
To ruin tending fast year after year ; 
Ere shame eventual, poverty, disgrace, 
In hideous aspect stare you in the face. — 
Turn then, O turn, ere yet too late, your eyes 
To where the hoary Grampians meet the skies, 
From stem oppression save our sinking Gael, 
Your bright example will at length prevail ! 

Yes, yes there still remain a faithful few/ 
Their country's pride, and to her interests true, 
Who have not basely bow'd the knee to Baal, 
And will not coolly 'see their country fall. 
Yes, generous masters ! — patriots steady, true! 
Our Senate wisely trusts in part to you, (8) 
To lead the van in what may justly seem 
The welfare of the poor — and what you deem 
Most apt to expedite the glorious plan, 
Which, once displayed to every thinking man, 
And clearly understood — the common cause 
Will then be sanctioned by our envied laws. 

O Avhat a pleasing thought, ye virtuous Great 
While thus still mindful of the humble state 
Of those industrious in the lower toils 
Among the Grampians and our western isles. 
Tired with the ceaseless din, and joys of town, 
\ While softly you repose oa beds of down, 
Think then, O think, when loudly roars the wind 
Pf those who face the storm ye leave behind : 
^ r while ye glide along in idle ease, ' i 

k^fe fr om the wintry blast or chilly breeze; 
^ r >*hen the board is spread, and sparkling wine 
* ield joys luxuriant to the soul supine, 
"^^ xxrindful always of those far away, 
^^ho for your comforts, toil»frojn day to day. 
^^cureto them, in turn, their frugal fare, 
~^*ui thus regard them with parental care, 
^-^isting evils soon will be relieved, 
"***Ul long lost blessings quickly be retrieved. 
***us your example brilliantly will shine, 
^ge after age shall hail the blaze divine, 
Vul Fame on hoary rocks the names shall grave 
Of those who did the Gael arid Grampians save.— 
Gonjoin'd then with our Senate, hand in hand, 
Ye truely Great ! O save our native land ! 






• ~4stke shades of night retire, when serenely the dawn 
•* day advances, and the sun, rising in full splendour, ex- 
l *£s Hie powers of vegetation by its genial influence — so, 
^ e day-spring of prosperity in the political horizon will 
^ G ^U7ne the Grampians and Hebrides, and dispel the 
S'oorn which the desolation of those districts lias recently 
s P r ead ; and eventually excite the industry and ingenuity 
*if the inhabitants — by which means, individual benefit will 
^ e naturally conjoined with public advantage, and the 
S°odofthe whole steadily maintained. II. A moderate 
C(>r npetence, peace and health, when united by the more 
bolted pleasures of intellect, constitute the greatest pos- 
sible blessings allotted to mankind — the culture of the hu- 
man understanding, the supreme, and most desireable ob- 
ject of sublunary enjoyments. III. The Georgics, or 
Sural Economy of the Grampians and Western Islands — 

£ 2 


Choice of live-stock — Spring — Vernal stornir—Care ofih 
shepherd before it commences — Calm — Sunset — Lake am 
mountain scene by moon-light. IV. Summer — Rural af- 
fairs — Economy qftlie Dairy — Choice of pasture. V. Th 
season for selecting the Firstlings of the Flock — Sheep-cur, 
— Shepherd* sdog—MountainFox-hunting— Night — Hun- 
ter's repose near ancient tomb-stones on an open heath— 
The Genius of Caledonia appears to one of the hunter, 
— The Vision recites the leading incidents of Scottish his- 
tory — and characterises the principal objects of the im- 
proved state of the mountainous regions of the North- 
Morning — The hunters renew the chace — Evening — They 
return home, and spend the night in the joys of the cup. 




As mild, serene, and radiant gleams the dawn, 

When night's dun shades wake frcfm the dewy lawn, 

And heaving up the orient streak'd with red, 

The rising day-star from his saffron bed 

Disparts th' impurpled curtains fringed with gold, 

Anon his peerless splendour to unfold ; — 

Loj in the, west, pale amber tints are spread, 

In soft refulgence o'er each mountain's head \ 

And as sublime ascends full bright and slow 

The glorious disk, a correspondent glow 

Streams down the cliffy wilds in one broad ray 

Till hills and vales float on the flood of day ; 

And genial sunshine, quickening all around 

The latent vigour of the teemful ground : ' 

So when the day-spring of prosperity 
Ascends th* horizon politic on high, 

b 3 


Remotest regions of our Grampians hoar . 
Shall be relumed — to beam for evermore. 
The strong and secret springs of action then 
Will urge with energy, bold, thinking men, 
Who know th' exhaustless treasures of the north, 
And with a powerful arm will heave them forth. 

II. A well-earn'd competence, and health and j 
When intellect's illumined joys increase, . 
Thus every sublunary good conjoin'd, 
How truly blest shall be the human kind ! 

May mind's high movements poise from pole to 
And man the meanest feel he hath a soul ! 
Let reason dictate, genius boldly plan 
The good supreme of frail and erring man ! 
Then shall true wisdom all his joys increase 
Whose ways are pleasantness, whose paths, are pea< 
Serene benevolence, and morals pure, 
Warm from the heart, forever shall endure. 
Then, let him reap the harvest of his toil, 
Whether he plough the deep or plough the soil : 
In arts refined, or sciences sublime, 
Should he with ardour keen devote the time. 
The Poet prostrate at fair Nature's shrine, 
The skilful Painter sketch the bold design, 
The sweet Musician sweep the golden lyre 
To sadness soothing — set the soul on fire,— 


Or pouring o'er rememberance some soft strain, 
Recal some pleasure past — some pleasing pain : 
Or should the man of thought, revolving deep, 
Heaven in his eye, his wakeful vigils keep 
In noiseless search mid learning's secret store, 
Retire with Bacon, or with Newton soar : 
When truth and reason hold their mild controul, 
Thus arts and sciences expand the soul ; 
While peace, abundance, sweet contentment, ease, 
Love, and true friendship, all combined to please, 
Shall lead to man's enjoyments God hath given, 
While bright-eyed Hope triumphant points to heaven 1 

III* Sons of the Gael ! amid your mountains hoar, 
Regard with eager eye your famed live-store ; 
For 'tis an arduous task to stock the farm, 
As it involves prosperity or harm : 
Be prudent then — with keen, discerning eye, 
Mark well your tive- stock beeves, before you buy ; 
In nice selection of the store desired, 
Due skill and caution in you are required : 
KintaiVs fam'd breed, or that of Sky's green isle, 
Are deem'd the best — low stature, thick curled pile ; 
Spine long and straight, ribs deep, high-crested, strong ; 
Let those true marks be found your herds among : (1) 
So will they thrive when led to southern keep, 
And prove more gainful far than alien sheep. 


When March in vernal mildness beams around, 
And daisies deck the dew -bespangled ground, 
Then softly lead your kine now great with young 
Along the streams with shady heights o'erhung ; 
There shelter'd they repose, or graze along, 
Till sun declines the western hills among, 
And soon requiting all the cares bestowed, 
Each fruitful heifer yields her living load ; 
The yearning dams around the dairy low 
Impatient waiting — eager to bestow 
Their udders' bland contents on fondlings keen, 
Who bound in joy fantastic o'er the green. 
Meanwhile the Cow-Boy toils the calves among, 
And lists delighted to the milk-maid's song, 
More tuneful far # than lark at dawn of day, 
Or thrush melodious perch'd on topmost spray : 
The Maiden doth a matron's care assume, 
The comely stripling rears to manhood's bloom j 
By mild endearnients tries his heart to gain, 
Nor does she heave the tender sigh in vain : 
For love propitious to their mutual vows 
Shall bind the wedlock-garland round their brows. 
A charge more precious will their days employ, 
That tender charge, the source of purest joy, 
Their smiling offspring — which with anxious care 
And mild content, they rear, though frugal be the fai 


Fail not, when floods of milk o'erflow the vale, 
To let your firstlings eagerly regale ; 
Tis thus they thrive and daily grow— <?re long 
Mature, well-form'd and sound they're rear'd full strong. 

Though April suns ascend the hills sublime, 
As yet the infant year in northern clime 
Is cold and cheerless all the lowering night, 
Or hoar frosts crimp the herbage of the height : 
Instinctive shunning every seeming harm, 
The teemful ewe retires to shelter warm. 

What time the languid dams their offspring greetf 
The little strangers wistful gaze and bleat, 
Benumb'd and feeble, trembling in the shade 
They helpless lie, to trust their limbs afraid :— 

See from yon airy cliff sublime on high 
The eagle comes slow sailing down the sky ! 
He ruthless seizes in his iron grasp 
The new-dropt lamb— if heaves the lengthening gasp ! 
With deadly aim the watchful shepherd nigh, 
His faithful tube's contents in flame lets fly, 
Down drops the blood-stain'd victor in dismay 
And darts a death- glance on his weltering prey ! 

So some proud tyrant, in his power elate, 
Grasping in maddening joy an infant state, 
An arm unseen strikes home the mortdl blow, 
At once it fells the stern usurper low ? 


And rural sounds now fill the narrow valea 
Borne on the balmy breath of vernal gales : 
The choral mingling of melodious sound 
Above, below, from every spot around, 
The airy tribes, the roaming herds and flocks, 
Pour forth their tones from knolls and woody rocks. 
Far to the west, the fine-drawn golden lines 
Now streak the azure vault — the sun declines, 
His yellow radiance streams along yon plain, 
He glorious sinks amid the glowing main. 
Veil'd in her airy robe of twilight gray, 
Now softly steals mild Eve at close of day ; 
High on her pendent throne of hoary hue 
She beckons one by one the stars to view. 
Anon in mildest mein, pale-faced and cold, 
The meek-eyed moon appears, her path to hold 
Among reposing clouds of fleecy forms, 
Far, far beyond the sweep of howling storms. 
, How still, how calm, how solemn and serene 
The moon-light grandeur of the mountain scene ! 
Heath-clad and hoar, half hid in wood and brake, 
The bending hills sublime that bound the lake . 
Now cast their sombre shades athwart the wave, 
And add the gloom and stillness of the grave : 
Till o*er the airy peaks the moon rides high 
Jn radiant halo circling through the sky ; 


^•ach shaggy dell, and .dimpling streamlet clear; 
■And hpary brow bathed in its beams appear ; 
^hile o'er the smooth expanse below, each ray 
W silver radiance, skims in noiseless play. 
**ow soft and genial breathes the vernal breeze ! 
^liile dew -bespangled herbage, heath, and trees, 
*** mildest lustre of pale-yellow light, 
*dd to the beauteous charms of balmy night ! 
So when the storms of vernal years are o'er, 
* he meek repentant learns to sin no more ; 
^h' Elysian moon-light of delightful dreams 
Ground him sheds its soft, lucific streams. 
Slach beaming prospect, beautiful, sublime, 
lipes to the eye serene of manhood's prime ; 
^ pleasing languishment pervades the whole, 
llie mellow moonshine of the pensive soul. 

• IV. Now May advances o'er the Grampian hills, 
Mild dawns the morn, and eve her dew distills ; 
Green pastures smile, and mountain rills run clear, 
Remotest glens salute the blooming year ; 
-A thousand feather'd warblers swell the lay 
Attuned in joy to Summer's lengthening day. 
The unfledg'd nestlings of the russet heath 
Look thro' their peep-holes as they chirp beneath ; 
Taught to elude him by maternal care 

They eye the soaring hawk in midway air : 


The plumy tribes that haunt the lake's green isle, 

That lave the wing, that skim, or dive the while* 

In joyous gambol, or in quest of prey, 

Each eagerly employs the live-long day. 

Lo where yon hanging mist trails slow along, 

The bounding deer the craggy wilds among, 

Swift as a passing cloud escapes the view, 

Now speed away, and sweep the morning dew. 

Wide o'er the heath, the herds and flocks now stray, 

And firstlings frolicksome are seen at play ; 

The kids fantastic leap — the lambs course round 

In snowy clusters all the daisied ground : 

While o'er the shaggy brow of yon steep hill, 

Along the margin of each tinkling rill, 

The lowing herds, and bleating flocks afar 

Are heard unseen : — While maids alert prepare 

The curdling mass which gentle heat promotes* 

The milky product of reluctant goats. 

Delicious morsel !— deem'd by many a sage 

Of healing virtue when matur'd by age : 

No oily fatness oozes from thy pores ; 

Thine all the essence of the herbage stores : 

As in the churn concreting cream now swells, 
'Tis well if in it lurk no elphin spells ; 
But should the power malignant nestle there, 
How shepherd-boys and dairy-maids do stare !— . 


From hand to hand the churn-staff oft is ply'd, 
But still defies each ardent effort try'd— 
In dread suspence they strain the live-long day, 
Nor toil, nor prayer can charm the spells away, 
No butter comes— the heaving mass subsides, 
And all the power of human skill derides ! — (3) 

Itx choice of pasture-range, ye Grampian swains, 
discernment nice must guide your utmost pains, 
** order that your fleecy stores may thrive, 
**ul that your fruitful herds be kept alive 
•trough Winter's lengthened rigours — well to bear 
l*e changes casual of the varying air. * 

^o-thirds, or more of hill-grass is required, 
^om noise and hurry free — serene, retired : 
'VTiere luscious herbage in succession rise 
°t all the season's requisite supplies. (4) 

By times be provident — save Winter's stores, 
"ieath-top, and fragrant hay strew round your doors : 
*-* r > with the snow-plough skilfully lay bare 
^he sward, or heath, that flocks and herds may share : 
■^ r should your nether-range the turnip rear, (5) 
*d then defiance to th' inclement year ; 
^ *th frugal care the food delicious deal, 
**at each partake alike the precious meal : 
^Us with due management in each affair, 
**^ store-farm flourishes, and crowns the owner's care. 


tn genial mildness June now smiles around, 
And hill and vale in pastures rich abound : 
Nor yet too warm — while breathes the balmy air, 
The male-lambs to select be now your care, 
Aware, lest sudden change of heat or cold, 
Cut off the tender firstlings of the fold, 
To shelter near the midway gently Jead 
The plaintive bleaters, there in quiet to feed. 

And now beware of foxes' ruthless fang ; 
Of sheep-curs too, a sly and faithless gang, 
Who steal unheeded up the lonely height 
To riot in the feast of blood the livelong night. 
How much unlike to thdse, the shepherd's friend, 
A dog of true-breed — faithful to the end, — 
Flies at his master's call — and at command 
Obeys the whistle shrill, or wave-of-hand. (6) 

The Hunter to the upland wilds is come, 
A welcome guest !— each lothan is his home ; 
His hounds and terriers keen, a yelping train. 
The mountain-echoes now salute again. (7) 

Far out of view among the airy peaks 
The wily prowler into covert sneaks ; 
The wary cubs alarm'd, instinctive creep 
Hard after, scarcely breathing, silence keep. 
. Ere peep of dawn, all ready for the sport, 
Forth from the airidh to the wilds resort ; 


imters, hounds, and shepherds dogs rove wide, 
moll to hill, from hill to mountain's side ; 
iath-cock shakes his wing — 'tis dawn of day—* 
» ! the hunt is up !— *away — awa y 
taks full speed away— swift, swift he flies I 
11 of opening hounds ascends the skies ; 
, away o'er many a shaggy steep 
tounds, and huntsmen swift as lightning sweep \ 
d the midway far, where cliffs meet sky 
e sly villain doubling oft on high, — 
ealing pack at fault, impatient, keen, 
j o'er the mountain's brow, unheard, unseen ; 
unters follow darting swift along, 
earless bound the craggy wilds among : 
bending heights they far beneath the eye, 
in the vale below the thief descry — 
a ! again the hounds have gain'd the scent ! 
eding danger, on their prey intent, 
dash midst cliffy windings, shelving rocks, 
•ouze the peaceful herds and roving flocks ; 
imid mountain -hare, the roe, the hind 
from their shelter, secret haunts to find, 
irmless tenants of these mountains wild, 
thirst not for your blood — ye meek ! ye mild ! 
crafty neighbour of the cavern-rock 
be blood-thirsty of the harmless flock, 



The canine rangers, full of vengeful fire, 
Fain would him worry in instinctive ire. 
Lo, now close in upon his utmost speed 
The sanguine pack to mouth him now proceed, 
Without a groan the hardened culprit dies, 
The hills resound the hunter's joyous cries ! . 
They pause — and panting dogs stretch 'd on the heath 
.Repose the while, and soon regain their breath ; 
And on a dark-brown knoll all now recline, 
A homely feast is spread, on which they dine ; 
Heart-cheering whisky, oat-cake, goafs-milk cheesy 
(High cheer that might an ancient hero please !) 
Compose the hearty meal — they rest the while, 
Anon to urge anew the pleasing toil, 

The huntsman gives the word — and up all spring ! 
And to their holla mountain-echoes ring-—* 
The game is up again — full speed they fly — 
Ere night-fall, hunted down, more prowlers die* 

Triumphant home returning from the chace, 
The hunters pass by many a well-known place. 
Yon mouldering ruin far amid the glen, 
Resounded once the mirth of joyous men— 
The hall is roofless— every door broke down, 
Nor heard the voice of bards of fair renown ; 
Their song hath ceased— their heroes long since laid 
In endless silence 'mongst the mighty dead ! 


Night's dark-grey mists roll down the winding vale, 
Calm is the lake, and hush'd is every gale, 
Deep silence reigns* save that the owls complain 
As hovering o'er the darken'd heath-clad plain. 
The hunters Weary, distant far from home, 
Recline to sleep beside the moss-grey tomb, 
Where heroes of the days df former years 
Repose — the once dread breakers of the spears i 
These self-same hills and Vales was wont resound, 
As in his strength each hero and his hound 
PeaPd high the mighty holla of the chace— 
Now mute they lie in their appointed place ! 

Deep midnight darkness wraps the lonely glen, 
And sleep profound has seal'd the eyes of men ; 
The hunter in his dream renews the chace, 
In broken yefh the sleeping hounds too trice 
The rous'd-up fox thro' every secret path, 
And mouth the air as kindling in their wrath : 
Dead stillness rests dti every mountain round, 
And thick-wove ihist spteads o'er the mossy ground j 
The httttte* hfcars the vtffee of hafrps unseen 
Far distant, high in air* the hitttf betweefl* 
As down the bindings of the ftrffrow vakf 
It comes in mfldhesg oh the dying gale> 
The clouds dfcp*rt— -the waning moon's pale gleam' 
Now faintly tretflMe* 6nl the Vate's bfoe stream; 

f a 


The path of ghost* departed beam on high, 
A beauteous female form approaches nigh I 
Her robe of mist, which flows in ample folds, 
A starry zone around her waist upholds ; 
Her snowy bodbm, swan-white neck, dark hair, 
Her lovely face, and noble, graceful air, 
At once proclaim the visitant divine, 
The guardian Genius of the Celtic line ; 
Her fine-form'd fingers sweep the airy strings, 
Deep drinks the hunter's ear, as thus she sings, 

(c Thou son of peaceful men ! arise ! draw near! 
The tale of other times regardful hear ! 
And learn what woes befel my ancient race— 
What joys eventual shall anon take place, 
When mid my Grampians and my sea-girt isles 
Peace reigns triumphant, and gay plenty smiles ; 
When wise arrangements relative to lands 
Shall be respected, placed in upright hands ; 
And when no more oppression shall prevail, 
In true content will flourish then the Gael/ 

She paused — and from the moon- tip t clouds came doi 
The ghosts of ancient heroes of renown, 
The king of woody Morven midst the throng, 
And Ossian, beam of battle, soul of song ! 
And Oscar, chief of men, and Selma's pride, 
The mild Malyiwa blooming by his side : 


Ten thousand warrior-ghosts are seen on high, 
Whose awful. forms bow down the yielding sky, 
Sublimely bending from their airy thrones, 
They list, as Caledonia swells her lofty tones. 

" Ye Gael of elder times ! whose powerful sway 
Made haughty tyrants tremble and obey, 
Your days were cloudless — joy's benignant smiles 
■tteain'd o'er these hills, and sea-surrounded isles, 
**te prows of haughty Lochlin tried in vain 

°Ur land-lock'd havens in their pride to gain : 
**te Roman Eagle soaring high, pounc'd strong, 
^s flagging wings were clipp'd these cliffs among $ 
* he Golden Eaglets of the dark-grey peak 
^efy'd the terrors of his awful beak, — (8) 

fe Such were the mighty deeds in times of old, 
tre Albion's foes had by atchievements bold 
The lawless right of ruthless conquest gain'd, 
And in the feudal bonds the Gael enchainM. 

" Up rose a race commixt of Picts and Danes, 
Who dragg'd a length'ning load of hateful chains, 
Green Eirin's sons sigh'd o'er their race laid low, (9) 
Nor dared to raise the spear against the common foe, 

" From woody Morven and from Selma's ball 
To Lorn's more fertile shore the Gael did call 
rheir kingly chief, and to the strong retreat 
3f famed Dunstqffnage moved the royal seat^ 



And thence tp Scone did Kenneth bring the Chair 
In safety placed the gread Palladium there ; 
But ruthless Edward seiz'd the precious priae, 
And fixt it on the spot where now it lies. (10) 
That matchless hero, Scotia's boastful pride* 
The valiant Bruce, the Saxon power defy'd \ 
To Freedom's sacred cause he breath'd the vow* 
She bound th' imperial garland round his brow* 
In recent days the race of Stuart reign'd, 
A star, though set, its lustre long retain' d,— 
And Albion thrice imbrued in kindred gore 
Essay'd its former brilliance to restore* — 
Long, long ere this domestic quarrels raged, 
The Feudal Lords as Chiefs the warfare waged, 
Chief ruin'd Chieftain thus, by murd'rous, plans, 
And hence arose The Conflicts of the Clans," (11) 

Here paused the voice.-»-The gloomy host uprose 
Indignant — in dark clouds their ranks they clo^e ; 
Now lightnings flash as they ascepd on high ; 
And thunders roll around the flaming sky, 
r— Again deep silence reigns— -a still small sound 
In murmurs most melodious whispers round, 
The tuneful shade the airy harp again 
Awakes, and breathes a soft heart-soothing strain. 

€e The day shall come, when savage war shall cease 
JJo more to irage— when mild benignant peace 

t . 


hall gladden every fiitt and vale and isle* 

ftrile love of couAtry, friendship void of guile, 

^U band in hand' unite in ardent zeal, 

> guard the comforts of the commonweal, 

^d dire Misrule shall never dare again 

e peaceful Caledonians to enchain : 

at day's at hand— behold the welcome dawn J 

d all the cheerless gloom is now withdrawn, 

mildest lustre beams the rising day 5 

ese russet wilds unwonted sweets display, 

ose lonely wastes beneath the farmer's care, 

culture fortn'd, shall bloom an Eden fair ; 

w flowers breathe odours o'er the enamel'd plains;, 

tiile wooded vales pour out their vocal strains ; 

ove, below, beyond the midway steep, 

e low of herds, the bleat of goats arid sheep, 

e shepherd's carrol> and the milkmaid's song 

sound the winding glens and hills among : 

e joyous hind from cultured heaths inhales 

labia's fragrance in soft-breathing gales ; 

>r famed Calabria, nor Arcadia fair, 

all with the smiling Grampians more compare ; 

rcassia's beauteous forms around them rise, 

e boast of nature— and the shepherd's prize, 

s High reward of virtue and of love, 

rich rural industry and worth shall prove. 


behold yon shepherd and his blooming maid 
In balmy slumbers on the green sward laid, 
Coeval, and both nurs'd beside the rill 
Whose dulcet murmurs wind around yon hill : 
Nor was the patriarch so supremely bless'd 
When Rachel's snowy bosom first he press'd ; 
Nor thrilling joy the maid of Haran fair 
Felt in return, more than th' enamour'd pair, 
Soft ecstacy shot through their inmost soul, 
They yielded all to mutual love's controul : 
Domestic sweets they prove— their ofispring now 
Around them rise, sweet pledges of their vow, 
Their children's children shepherd swains embrace, 
And leave as heritage their native place ; 
In calm repose, in mild and tranquil joy, 
The aged still without restraint employ 
* Life's ne*u*er close in rural industry, 
To leave a spotless name— content to die ; 
While round them flourish every object dear ! 
Thus sink to endless rest devoid of fear." 

So spake the vision-*-and withdrew on high, 
The beam of dawn her path along the sky — 
And now the top-cliffs of yon western steep 


Reflective gle^m as morn begins to peep, 


^ Q Otyn the mountains pour the glowing rays, 
"^ **i the east up-heaves the rising blaze, 
"Hie o'er the waving heath the sun-beams play, 
**£ hunter's wake — and hail the spreading day : 
* **e chace as homeward bending they renew, 
^d sweep along the hills all drench'd in dew : 
^'er knolls and hills, amongst stupendous rocks, 
They hunt the prowlers of the harmless flocks 
Till day declines : Along the winding vale 
They weary wend : Near home they gladly hail 
The botkan's curling columns of blue smoke 
From blazing peat, or moss-pine, birch, or oak : 
For well the hunters know the social board 
Is duly spread — with viands rich well stored ; 
And though the shell no ruby nectar fills, 
Yet aquavitce of the Grampian hills, (12) 
That soul-inspiring liquor, pure and bright, 
Our joyous hunters quaff, and drink away the night* 

2nd of book fourth. 





L Mid-Summer — Effects of extreme drought on the face 
of nature — {The Female Florist, and Mountain-Botanist—* 
Medicinal herbs ^and vegetable dies, indigenous to the 
Grampians — Shower, and refreshing appearance of the 
surrounding country — Labour renewed — Turnip-sowing. 

II. July — Sheep-shearing — Song, in which are introduced 
some of the historical incidents of the Pastoral Ages. 

III. August — Weaning of the Lambs — Characteristic 
view of the Grampians, Seas, and Western Islands, as seen 

from the top of Benevis, the pinnacle of Great Britain, 

IV. September — Harvest — Ludicrous description of 
reaping — Great care required in securing the crop from the 
heavy rains of the western coast — To be particularly mind- 
ful of saving sufficient winter-pasture and fodder for the live- 
stock — The season of fruit in the straths and glens, and of 
berries upon the mountains, the latter being theprincipalfood 


of grouse and other heath-game — The breeding-stock sepa- 
rated from the sheep draughted for sale — Management 
during disease — Rutting time — Smearing of the flock. 
V. October — ^Manifest changes, and approach of Winter 
— The heaths assume their russet aspect , the woods, their 
variegated hues — The feathered tribes assemble, while some 
migrate to warmer regions. VI. November — Its sullen 
gloom rests on the mountains — Winter — Care of the flock 
during the tremendous rage of a storm — The wea- 
ther is calm and serene, and the cattle and Sheep safely 
housed or in sheltered place — A slight outline of the man- 
ners, mode of living, and superstition of the Gael—with 
tukich this division of the subject concludes* 




High o'er the peaks of Albion's northern bound. 
Supreme in might the sun his strength around 
Pours in a living stream of glorious rays, 
While nature seems to languish in the blaze. 
Mid-Summer's sultry glow pervades the scene, 
And drought extreme absorbs the vivid green ; 
The powers of vegetation fast decay— 
The pastures fail, and flowerets fade away. 

See beauteous Noina wanders o'er yon plain, (l) 
In quest of sweets of loveliest bloom in vain ; 
No daisy meek of varigated hue 
Arrests her mildly-beaming eyes of blue ; 
Nor purple violet, pansy, primrose pale, 
Nor ruby rose-bud, lily of the vale, 
Appear to gem the mead, or sun-burnt lawn 
Impearl'd with dew no more at eve or early xlawa* 


Lo, where young Nieu, the first of graceful men, 
Belov'd of Noina, winds adown the glen, 
The k^en herb-searcher of the teemful ground* 
The skilful Leigh of all the country round ; (2) 
Oft through the steepy wood, the lonely wild, 
Where fragments huge of rock seem strangely piled, 
(The hoary Cromleac, or the heroe's tomb), (3) 
From morn till eve the, youth delights to roam ; 
Along the winding stream, or lake's green shore, 
With eager eye to cull the healing store ; — 
Thence now returning Noina meets his gaze, 
To whom alone he breathes his tender lays \ 
See how they rush with rapturous embrace, 
While blushes sweet suffuse her lovely face ; 
To shun the solar beam and sultry heat, 
They gain the covert of a cool retreat, 
Where tinkling rills and runnels ripple by, 
Where weeping birches to the breezes sigh, 
Where ring-doves coo, and blackbirds swell their note; 
And lesser songsters strain the tuneful throat ; 
Charm'd by the throstle's sweetly warbled close* 
Where woodbines climb, our rural pair repose. 
Niel from his scrip a liberal handful flings 
On Noma's lap, of Cor-meiUes y knobby strings; (£) 
Hie lusciou* gift the fair one takes, meanwhile 
Repay* the donor width, a witching smile ; 


And kind discourse with mingling kisses sweet, 

Employ the moments of their soft retreat. 

His herbs of healing virtue Nid displays, 

While Noina pleased, enquires with curious gaze, 

How each specific counteracts disease, 

Promotes recovery, or procures wish'd ease : 

Thus, wild d/arf -myrtle of the moorish waste, 

(Of odour fragrant, but of acrid taste), 

Its virtue vermifuge is highly prized, 

Nor bitter seems when skilfully disguised : 

TV astringent tormentil that spreads the heath, 

The caustic spearwort of the lake beneath, 

The kindly groundsel, meet for healing sores, 

The precious eye-bight that lost sight restores, 

The styptic milfoil, drastic clubmoss wild, 

And lavage warm, carminature, yet mild, 

The fragrant rosewort, head-ach's sovereign cure, 

Thtfox-glove deadly, yet, specific sure 

In bloated dropsies— sometimes in decline ; 

The gentian bitter, yet stomachic fine, 

The nutrient orchis of the waste and wood, 

And mountain burdock, most salubrious* food* (5) 

For, should the field, or fruitful fold e'er fail, 
And hideous famine o'er these hills prevail, 
Let not despondency the soul appal, 
For dearth devours not nature's bounties all.— 

Go, search the wild, nor from thy purpose swerve, 

Lest thy lov'd friends around thee want, or starve ; 

When murrain rages, or when famine reigns, 

And desolates the hills, or blights the plains, 

Go, cheerly search for herbs — the wood or waste I 

Possess abundance, ; — grateful to the taste, 

Salubrious, nourishing, when dress'd with case— 

By hunger season'd, luscious seems the fa/e. 

And should thy lot be cast where billows roar, 

Even there, go pick thy food along the shore, 

For man and beast may satisfy their wants, 

So long as sable rocks rear rich sea-plants. (6) 

Thus want appals not— but excites true worth, 

And keen necessity gives bright invention birth. 

But other herbs NiePs ample scrip contains 
That give the various woofs their vivid stains, 
That to the fleecy twine impart their dye, 
Harmonious hues that charm at once the eye- 
Thus, madder's rubby tints excel the rose, 
And white-thorn *s sable tinge the clustering sloes ; 1 
While heath-buds hues exceed the blossom'd broom, B 
The lichen's dyes the purple shades assume. (7) 

But, hark ! — a shower now patters through the glade, 
Our rural lovers in the sylvian shade 
List gladly to the fast-increasing sound 
£s rain in torrents slakes the thirsty ground.. 


c shower had ceased — how fresh the balmy air ! 

>r th froiri the wood now steal the happy pair* 

*fc new-laved lawn, as opening to their view 

^tts by enchantment deck'd in verdure new ! 

long the cultured strath the stinted blade 

^e moisture drinks — the plough and polish'd spado 

ke sturdy swains assume^-qrenew the toil, 

*r turnip-sj&l to pulverize the ^oil : 

**on the rows spring fair, the luscious store 

Ppears luxuriant, kept for winter hoar 

o feed your lusty beeves and fatt'ning sheep ; 

11 sound condition thus live-stock you keep. 

Ire July's fervid rays pour down their strength, 
**y sheep's sleek downy vestures grown full length, 
e cure from wild-rose-bush, rank heath, or brake, 
n ° | H off the panting throng with care now take ; 
**d long ere dawn hie to the upland range, 
^ e re*in the cool of morn, (for destined change 
^ fleecy bleaters are to undergo), 
*u gather calmly,— lead them soft and slow 
?t\ti from the heights — then gently to the fank 
^ide the stream that laves yon blooming bank, 
*ar to the pool's steep brink decoy the crew? 

nich stubborn still, in wild suspence they view ; 

Uh deafening clamour urge them headlong o'er, 
***azed they plunge, and gain the nether shore : 


Escaped^ now rugtling o er the peebled hti 

Thfy bound in haste— along the rising spread 

They slowly wind, and with their length'nmg wail^ 

In plaintive bleatings load the dying gale. 

While they repose and ruminate the while. 

Share now the morn's repast ere yet begins the toil - 

Again the shepherd pipes the signal shrill \ 
Swift as the wind his dog ascends the hill . 
To fetch a compass round the fleecy throng, 
And turn each wanderer as he sweeps along; 
Led to the narrow portal of the pea* 
Confounded by the din of dogs and men, 
Th' astonished multitude afraid to stir, 
Lest in the act fresh outrage they incur, 
Move not a hoof— till one bounds o'er the walk 
The clamour swells — now in they hasten all. 

So to the breach the hope-forlorn when led. 
In wild amazement view death's gory bed,-** 
Devoted few ! — how hard the hopeless toil 1 
The dire assault !~yet dare ye not recoil !-«• 
A moment's pause !— and but a moment's pause V 
High swells the soldier's heart in freedom's cause ! 
In darts he midst the cannon's thundering blaze 1 
His comrades follow pealing loud huzzas I— 

Safe in the stone-built fank the bleaters stand, 
Now pent and crowded 0«e, a vanquish'd band-l 

***. turf-seats, rang'd the eager shearers Wait 
^eii for th&r labour, in their skill elate. 
^o^r bound and prostrate on the lap is placed ' 
***fc conquered ram indignant and disgraced ; 
**^e patient wedder, and the meek-eyed ewe, 
^Ute and recumbent yield their fleeces too. 

Then, from the shoulder guide thy sounding steel 
^ound With dext'rous care— nor let them feel 
* s cruel point-~*a scratch, tho* slight it seem, 

**oves fatal often in the worst extreme. 

Vit should thy erring hand inflict a wound, 
^pply the pine-juice and it heals quite sound, 
^ark now with ruby chalk and sable tar 
tV initial signs, ere to the hills afar 
t?hey bound denuded of their doWny vest, 
ft. lank and awkward throng-- -each other's jest ! 
But who can paint the wailing lambkin's gaze, 
His new-shorn dam now meeting*— in amaze 
He scampers off-— she follows his retreat, 
And calls him baek with many a tender bleat. 

The toil goes cheerly on the whole day long, 
"While oft is railed the chdral shearing-song, 
And blythe, the blooming maids, and shepherds gay, 
"The burthen joining of the tuneful lay ; 

" Come shear the downy vesture, sleek and fine; 
" Here matron— now this golden gift is thine ! 



Old tales record that somewhere— -far away, 
Deep in a wood The Golden Fleece once lay ; 
Two brazen-footed bulls, who, breathing flame 
Did in their rage consume who daring came 
To that dread spot — a hideous hydra too . 
The treasure guarding, rear'd his crest to view. 
Thessalian Jason 'royal ^son's son), 
To Colchis sped — The Golden Fleece he won. 
Come shear the downy vesture, sleek and fine, 
Here matron — take this golden fleece of thine i 
4( On Ida royal Priam's son kept sheep- 
One day reclining on its piny steep 
Minerva, Juno, Venus, all appear'd, 
And on the youthful shepherd fondly leer'd. 
First by the hand Minerva Paris took ; 
Her air divine wore still a prudent look. 
Next Juno mov'd along — her lofty mein 
Confest the wife of Jove, and heaven's dread queen. 
But Venus fair, dove-eye'd, soft, meek, and mild, 
Of fonp exquisite, blooming, lovely, smil'd, 
When he beheld her glowing in her charms, 
The royal shepherd's heart beat love's alarms,. 
Her matchless beauty did the prize demand- 
He kneel'd, ador'd, and trembling kiss'd her hand ! 
Come, shear the downy vesture, sleek and fine, 
Here, matron — take this golden gift of thine ! 

101 *- 

* ( Even Gods themselves a shepherd's life have led., 
Instructing mortals as their flocks they fed — 
'Twas thus Apollo, from Olympus driven, 
(In form a man, the radiant son of heaven) 
On Thessaly's famed fields he fed his flocks, 
And strung his lyre amid the woods and rocks : 
Around him throng'd, while listening to his lay, 
The savage herdsmen pleas'd, day after day : 
W seasons, changes various, toils and ease, 
•^d all the rural joys that man may please 
"e sung — and how to conquer in the race, 
*^nd brave the perils of the arduous chace : 
**e humanized them: — taught them arts of peace~ 
^Ven gods were jealous of their stores increase. 
Come shear the downy vesture, sleek and fine, 
Here, matron — take this golden gift of thine ! 
c Of old, the Patriarchs were shepherd swains, 
-And fed their flocks on Canaan's flowing plains ; % 
<*ot, Abram, Isaac, Jacor, shepherd-kings 
(Of whom the royal shepherd David sings) 
All rear'd their herds and flocks in rural state.— 
~To Midian Moses (learned, good as great;, 
An outcast wander'd — shepherd he became, 
^fet led forth Israel in Jehovah's name 
Jrom Egypt's bondage to the promis'd land, 
And wrought dread wonders with a powerful hand ! 




From Nebo's top, with Canaan all in view, 
He bless'd the smiling land—and calmly then withdrew 
Gome shear the downy vesture, sleek and fine, 
Here, rpatron— take this golden gift of thine ! 
f Greece and her isles of old were famed for flocks* 
Italians sea-laved shores, and thyme-clad rocks, 
(When tvmeful Virgil charm'd the warrior's ear, 
And sung the rural labours of the year), 
Could boast of flocks and herds a countless throng^ 
Calabria's hills and Appennines among. 
And ancient Spain (whence Scoto-Gael first eame)^ 
Was famous deem'4 — and still maintains its fame* 
Above Arcadian, or Tarenttne 
For sheep of native breed, with fleeces fine. - 
But when the Western Empire was o'er-run 
By Vandal, Goth, and Saracen and Hun, 
The fleecy charge and precious milkfcn store 
Seem'd swept from off the desolated shore ! 
Far from the dreary night of Gothic gloom, 
Our northern isles did freedom then relume : 
Our fore-sires, peaceful, then a shepherd-race, 
Did tend their flocks—- or rous'd the cheering chape. 
These hills and glens and wooded wilds can tell, 
How many wolves, and boars, and deer then fell. 
Come, shear the downy vesture, sleek, and fine;, 
flere, matron— take this golden gift of thine ! 


" In latter days, when clad in steel and gold, 

&ch chieftain strutted forth a baron bold, 

Ow clans the madness caught— the garnished guise 

The- vain aflected— -shepherd* did despise ! 

Neglecting rural sports, for conflicts dire, 

And wasted att in feuds the Celtic fire ! 

Of flocks and herds a scanty share was then 
^fi to the care of t€ sons- of little men." 
*****t, wiser grown? we thus improve our stores, 
^*aidst our hills — along our sea-beat shores. 

Come, shear the downy vesture, sleek and fine ; 
Here, matron— ail those golden gifts are thine !" 
*hus sung the shearers blythsome, to beguile 
(lie busy moments of their pleasing toil. 

The downy treasure now securely hoard, 
Till rest from other cares shall time afford 
To sort with nicest skill each finer lock, 
The golden produce of the fleecy flock. 

Again the fank confines the bleating throng, 
Your breeding-store select now from among 
The well-form'd firstlings of the wooHy race, 
And let thy care conserve them in good case. 

III. The yule of August o'er, now from their dams, (a) 
Be next your care to wean your kids and lambs : 
And thus relieved, the ewes ascend the heights, 
To feed at large, till Autumn's lengthened nights. 


Apart the lambkins tend with anxious care 
Thus wean'd : — now banish'd to their herbage farej 
They rove at large, — and bleat, and wistful gaze 
On where their dams, far distant, heedless graze. 

From Albion's pinnacle, around survey 
Each hill, vale, island, near, or far away :— 
Lo, what a wide expanse, — a prospect grand, 
An eye-range vast, we from this peak command ! 
See, to the west, where flash th' Atlantic waves ; 
Or turn thine eye where German ocean laves . 
(Roll'd from the Baltic's depths that wildly roar), 
In foaming fury Scotia's eastern shore. 
Pause — and stand stedfkst— cast a glance around—- 
How awful seems the wide horizon's bound ! 
The heighth immense of heaven's aerial dome, 
Where suns and planets roll, and comets roam ! — 
Come near the brink— now cast a look below : 
How deep the yawning rift, half fill'd with snow > 

O'erhung by rocks stupendous — where no ray 


Of solar heat can melt the mass away — > 
Look to the right— rbehold beneath the eye 
Three sister lakes that in yon valley lie ; (9) 
A span beyond, the brinny flood is seen 


Smooth as a mirror, lofty hills between. 
Retrace the scene from friths extended wide, 
Jq where the dread Atlantic his tide, 


Lo> at the mountain's base, beneath thy feet 
The sea serenely glides a silvery sheet ; 
See on light airs barks gently steal along 
Thefar-stretch'd glen the Grampian wilds among, ^ 
frows that have braved the perils of the main, 
fraught with the West's and Orient's choicest gain j 
Thus far, tho* slowly, safely they proceed, 
Anon thro* British seas they homeward speed. 

Albion ! thou imperial queen of isles ! 
Surrounding empires glory in thy smiles ! 
*Wne arms extend in kindness — peace, and truth 
Will beam around and long preserve thy youth ; 
*hy power supreme, when aided by those charms 
Will love inspire, and hush all false alarms : 
Whilst thou wilt smiles benign on each bestow, 
11 mutual friendship will thy lovers glow ; 
Whilst valour, freedom, honour, public zeal, 
^tt^nd thy nod, and guard thy sacred weal : 
^*lilst hawk-eyed commerce, trade's first darling child, 
^ith placid literature, and science mild ; 
^**d heaven-born genius, industry, quick, keen, 
^^ith rural labour dignified in mein, 

*>y brightest ornaments, thy joy, thy pride 
^^ound thee move, or range on either side, 
*" grace the grandeur of thy mighty train, 
Vliou peerless ruler of the boundless main ! 


What though no riaes high o'er thy mountains cresj^* 

Nor orange groves overhang the hoary steep. 

The olive waves not on the russet waste, 

Nor fruits exotic of moat faeious taste 

Along the windings of irrigoous vales,. 

Diffusing odours on the balmy gales ; 

Yet wafted from afar those precious stores, 

At thy command are poured along thy shores ; 

For o'er thy oritur' d fields, and pasture-plains, 

And straths, and narrow glens, and hills, — the swain* 

Rear beeves innumerous, feed their countless flocks 

That range the mead, or roam among the rocks*. 

That yield the richest food, and raiment warm 

To shield from cold,— -and brace a Briton's arm, 

The arm that holds the rein of Neptune's cat,. 

That hurls in ire the thunderbolts of war ; 

That guides in peace thy prows 'neath distant skieg* 

And thence returning bring those vast supplies 

That arts anew create by various toil, 

And barter daily for the fruits of soil* 

Thy matchless skill o'er all the earth prevails,— 

Thy friths and channels swarm with countless sails j 

Each long canal, and sea-embracing stream, 

Bear on their bosom wares of stamp supreme ; 

Through all th' Emporia of commercial shores 

As gold ar$ prised fair Alhkw'a home-made stores* 


Slow heave the vapours up the shouldering steep, 
Sublime as thus we stand— -lo, where they sweep 
Their lengthening shades wide o'er the horizon** bound, 
And spread an azure sea of mist around ; 
Lost in an ocean vast, remote and near 
The glens and ridgy wilds no more appear, 
Save where some lofty hills lift up on high 
Their airy summits mid the clearer sky. 
Far to the west, lo, where the azure breaks, 
See streamy Morven's cliffs, and Jura's peaks ; 
See Mull's hoar hills, and those of Urchay's glen, 
Pre-eminent 'mong those see Chruachan Bein, 
Along whose base Loch-awe his billows sweeps 
Or hush'd to calm profound, serenely sleeps. 
See Seinnan bleak, and Buachail-Etibh bare 
O'er dread Glenco in sterile grandeur glare, . 
And wilder tooth-like cliffs that yonder rise 
Which tear the clouds when furious storms arise. 
Far, far to southward, dimly to the view 
Benlomond rears his head 'of azure hue 
And bending o'er his islet-lake elate 
Looks round th* horizon vast, in awful state. 
Behold Bein-Ledi, whence Tieth bursts the bound 
(Translucent stream that laves my native ground !) 
And rolls his rapid waters to the Forth, 
The Thames, slpw-winding of the stormy north. 


Bein-Loi (whence Tay's first springs proceed) - Bdn-Mo^=>re 

That tow'rs sublime, and views its farthest shore; 

Ben-Lawers huge, Sheichallion, and Bein-Gloe 

(The haunts stupendous of red-deer, and roe,) 

Due east are seen. Still mere remote discern 

Amid a hundred hills yon azure cairn, 

Whence Dee and Don roll down their amber floods 

Thro* Mar's dark forest, and through Morven's woods -^* 

Lo, where yon Coire uprears his conic form > 

(Where dwells the spirit of the northern storm* 

Who oft in moody joy, on rapid wings 

Pours down in ftiry Spey's collected springs), 

Beyond that bourne, far northward now descry 

Where clouds disparting trail along the sky, 

Bleak Caithness, Sutherland, and Ross, one wild 

Of sterile mountains in rude grandeur piled ; 

Yet many a shelter'd glen, and cultur'd field 

Bich stores of pasture, herds and flocks there yield.— 

Th* horizon brightens. Albion's roughest bound 

Burst on the view, where brawls the surge around, - i4 

Where whirlpools foam, and wild waves restless roar 

That scoop the caverns of the western shore. (10) 

IV. Serene September with benignant smiles 
Salutes the harvest of th' ^Ebudian isles : 
The Grampian glens and straths in yellow hue 
J?ow often seen drench'd in Autumnal dew 


nd the farmer's care from early dawn 
r e's dun shades descend on hill and lawn, 
peep of day the sturdy mountain swain 
es the reapers of the narrow plain ; 
ipe's shrill chaunter peals aloud th' alarm, 
semsto say, u haste to the field— arm ! arm \ u 
nerry-hearted lad, and cheerful maid 
the signal — grasps the shining blade : 


>dless battle rages o'er the field, 
ountless thousands of the foe soon yield; 
to the earth they fall — to rise again ; 
1 up the wounded,-— and secure the slain !"— 
>t once more, and form'd in close array 
ace the triumph of some future day), 
nquish'd stand : — Nor is the combat done, 
iriskly charge full oft ere yet the day be won I 
Jiant leader of the conquering band, 
;eneral-l: , behind them takes his stand; 
y him struts the bagpipe hero vain, 
>unds a loud, and yet a louder strain : 
ive the pipe due pause — a choral song 
ving to wing now runs the line along, 
lale and female warrior swells on high 
livening lay, as cheerly still they vie; 
are of sudden change, ye prudent swains } 
the harvest from Autumnal rains ; ' 

Hang up your full-ear'd sheaves with timely carl; 
In sheds made permeant to the circling air. (11) 

Meanwhile be careful of the well-saved range 
Of winter-pasture, near thy sheltered grange ) 
By sage experience timely thus provide 
Sure wintering for your store, whatever betide***-* 
Hence will your fleecy charge* when storms arise, 
And reign supreme o'er hyperborean skies, 
Be well supplied, while sheltered from the Wast, 
Till genial Spring's return, atod Winter's rigour past 

Their mellow riches orchards now disclose, ' 
tVhile ruby rasp*, and berries of the rose, 
And haws now ripe, blush o'er the braky field, 
And hazel-woods their milky kernels yield, 
— To Alpine wilds repair — *here range the heath; 
And cull the clustering berries found beneath. 
Here whortles blue arid red, of various si^e, 
There mountain-mulberries of different dyes, 
Here trails arbutus o'er the mossy ground, 
(A beauteous ever-green) and wreathes around; 
There cull the bill-berry of lustre blue, 
And spreading cranberry of crimson hue, 
With jetty crow-berries your thirst now slafce, 
But, be aware how much of those you take j— 
As food these Alpine fruits were not derij^M 
For man, — but for the heath-bred wingsd kind, (is) 


ho, ere the Winter scatters Dound die hills 
s keen, keen frost, that wen mooiiand chills, 
t freely, and become soon plump and strong, 
id thus endure severest seasons long. 
ark then— 'tis thus your lire-store ought to share* 
id well provide them in Autumnal fare ; 
Qs, in condition prime, fix stock, or sale* 
answer either purpose rarely fail. 
•or sale, now, draught those destia'd of your flock* 
erring all you've mark'd for breeding-stock : 
i first, those that in bone and wool exoell, 
tt you the weak, or sickly, must expel ; 
those you lose, when storms ot vernal brood 
tract drear Winter's rigours— want of food 
y bear not for a time~*faut languish, lie, 
1, heartless, feeble, Boon they droop and di£, 
ie Vise— s/odfe lightly~~d\en defy disease, 

I manage all with comfort and with ease : 
, should disorders thin your fleecy store, 
e simple means, your losses to restore ; 
Wugs deal sparingly, ~J*xt nurse with care (13) 
trt, those whom the maladies malignant spare. 
Hs thus a skilful Leech when pests dire rage, 
th caution due will their worst forms assuage, 

II promptly use with fortitude the means 
deems most active— yet to naturt lean* : 


And separates the sickly from the sound, 

Experience guiding practice, — hence his skill profound 

What time love's mystic power pervades the flocks^ 
The potent males, among the shaggy rocks 
Imperious bounding, in their strength elate 
They conscious glory in their altered state,— 
Mark nicely then the season meet for love, 
Too soon its rites let not the bleaters prove, 
Lest premature, the flocks in early spring 
The feeble^ trembling firstlings forth may bring. (14) 

To salve the fleecy store the time draws near, 
Thus shielding them against the changeful year; 
Then, be that needful task perform'd with care. 
So that the fleece be faultless, pure and fair ; 
And thus the golden treasure, downy, fine, 
May be unstain'd by essence ofthk pine. 
To lave the bleaters in the pet am' s juice. 
Some swains suppose the best effects produce ; 
As salving-mixtures oft the fleece defile, • 
And tinge the snowy fabric of its pile, 
Infused nicotiana, well prepared, 
To smearing-salve, by some, may be preferr'd. (\5f 

V. October's sombre shades now spread around : 
A peaceful mildness, calm, serene, profound, 
Steals unperceiv'd along the dewy glade, 
While all the radiant hues of evening fade. 


ipland wilds have lost their purple blooms, 
leath its dreary russet now assumes, 
bwler's slaughtering tube^ with murderous roar, 
vex the mountain-echoes now no more : 
■vidow'd heath-^ock sounds his evening-call, 
ither in the covey's remnant small, 
sadly hiding 'neath the wing his crest, 
rely with his mourners sinks to rest. 
», when rude warfare's rage is hush'd to peace, 
ther wails his family's decrease ; 
Jn round the evening fire all drown'd in tears 
rcews the props of his declining years ; 
ie sacred pledges of his earlier joys 
outhful bloom are fallen, his bravest boys 
e press'd untimely honour's gory bed ; 
e mournful sits, and hangs his hoary head — 
ghs his inmates sink in soft repose, 
sngth in balmy sleep his aching eye-lids close, 
ow changed the face of all the woodland scene 1 
hues of heaven's aerial bow are seen 
ad o'er the arborets and aged trees 
t brave the blast, or tremble in the breeze, 
save those evergreens that still appear 
yed in leafy robes the livelong year, 
yew, the holly, and the Scotian pine, 
t with the sylvan swains their arms entwine ; 



The lowing herds, and bleating flocks at hand, 

Look round in sorrow on the twilight land ; 

Then lead the mournful people soft and slow 

To warm retreats where grateful herbage grow. 

When snows contend with mingling sleet and rain> 

And tempests rage wide o'er the Atlantic main, 

When caves moan to the wind at midnight-hour 

Along the mountains wild, sublime in power 

The spirit of the storm on fiery wings, 

Or shrieks, or howls, or hoops, or madly sings ! 

Lays waste the wooded vale with giant stroke, 

Tears up the pine, or snaps the blasted oak ; 

Or rifts in twain the huge impending rock, 

While mountains tremble 'neath the awful shock ! 

Amid the rage of elemental strife, 

Nay, at the peril of thy precious life, 

Course round and round the flock — search every where, 

Nor let a hoof escape thy ceaseless care ; ■ 

If haply snows drift into hoilows dank, 

And flocks seek shelter near the tempting bank, 

Lose not an instant, sweep them from below, 

And let them face the hail, or drifting snow ; 

They under foot beat down the pelting storm, 

And brave it thus, and meet its fiercest form. 

But, when the storm is past — in silence deep 
The moonlight steals along the snowy steep ; 


And all the lustrous orbs that roll on high, 

Id diamond brilliance stud the azure sky ; 

And on the bosom of tfce ice-bound lake, 

The star-rays twinkle, and the moon-beams shake : 

With calm delight then view the winter- scene 

Where nature dwells in solitude serene ; 


How splendid, how sublime — here snow- clad hills, 

On which repose a thousand ice -chained rills ; 

There seen arrested in its raging might, 

The torrent slumbers thro' the silent night, 

Yon dread cascade that down the mountain's side 

But lately roll'd its furious foamy tide, 

A wond'rous change exhibits to the gaze 

3f frost-work glittering in the moon's pale rays ; 

?rom sable rocks those pendant columns vast 

)f fluted icicles, seem thus amass'd, 

To fancy's eye, (wrought by some ice-elves wild), 

V crystal grot fantastically pil'd ; 

AThere Finland fays at midnight-hour resort, 

To meet our Grampian fairies in disport, 

There 'mongst pellucid pillars vigils keep, 

Till on their ice- work dawn begins to peep. 

When flocks are shelter'd safe from every harm, 
And kine all fodder'd, bedded clean and warm, 
^hen younger cattle, houseless still, around, 
TCie fragrant mouthfuls chew laid on the ground. 

h 3 


When all are safe witEout — within retire, 
And trim with social glee the evening fire } 

O what a cheering sight ! — around survey 
Each face now brightened by the rouzing ray ; 
See near the blazing hearth, old, feeble, thin, 
The grandam with her rock still tries to spin ; 
On either hand the damsels ply the wheel, 
While with due care the matron turns the reel ; 
And while the lint-wheel's low continued hum 
Is heard, the wool-wheel peals its noisy drum. 
As whiri'd with ease, dexterity, and grace, 
By yon sweet maid of mild bewitching face, 
Whose mellow voice oft swells the choral lay 
(As fly the hours of pleasing toil away) * 
*** Of many a song replete with touching strains 
That thrill the soul, or soothe its love-sick pains, 
Soft as the breathing Spring when vocal gales 
At close of day sigh thro' the wooded vales: 
And varied themes that^stir up passions strong, 
Wild as the raving winds that howl the cliffs among 
The tender tale of woe that melts the heart, 
The songs of war that maddening joys impart, 
The (C tale of old" in sweet soul-searching tones 
Now plaintive warbles — soft and low now moans, 
Now shrill, clear, full, and loud and louder swells 
Aloft the music of " the feast of shells/' (J 8) 


*-So wears away the night. Now swains prepare 

The staple viand of their frugal fare ; 
Brought forth the mealy roots, e^ch draws his knife, 

The brisk attack's begun— a bloodless strife — 
ftea'd, scalpM, and cut up nobly, see they lie 
A. mangled heap^-Jbut not in crimson dye— 
■The victors, somewhat tired, do not retreat, 
*or what they've kill'd they mean anon to eat— 
^nlike to those who kill for sordid pay, 
But eat not of the game they thoughtless slay. 

Meanwhile the kind guidwife does all herself, 
llie hearty meal prepares from press, or shelf, 
Or from the dairy bears of richest cream 
A brimful iicAer— pours the yellow stream 
Into the reeking pot the roots among, 
While with a mallet, and an arm full strong 
Some lusty swain beats well the mellow mass ; 
— Tis done ! — behold it raised a feast for lad or lass ! 
The sweet repast is o'er, some pleasing tale, 
u A tale of other times"— of spectres pale, 
Of second sight — of elf-shot — evil-eye — 
^(fairies — late-wake-feats — or Benshi-cry — 
Ml strictly true — for true to all they seejn ; 
£xcite emotions various as the theme. (19) 
Hie fire neglected — heat and light both fail, 
So eagerly each drinks the wond'rous tale ; 


Benumb'd with cold, and lost in secret dread, 
All in the dark they grope their way to bed ; 
Now bursts the shriek of fear and wild dismay,. 
Some stand aghast, some fall, some run away } 
The howl swells high of dog, and man, and maid ! 
For all seem witch'd, amazed, and sore afraid ! 
One gains the door — athwart the footway path 
He sees the fleeting form of some ones wraith ; 
And loudly screams, and quaking speechless stands, 
The cold drops wiping with his trembling hands — 
u A ghost !" he faintly cries — " behold it there — 
See how it stalks along !— say where !— oh where ?" 
In fault'ring accents ask the tim'rous throng, 
When lo, they one and all now see it stalk along ! 

Young Malcolm, bold in manly enterprize, 
His courage summons up — and rubs his eyes, 
At once resolves to meet the awful shade, 
And onward paces dauntless — half afraid 
His keen claymore unsheath'd he moves apace 
To meet the ghastly apectre face to face : 
But swift as wind it sweeps along the height, 
A roe confest, it strikes the clearer sight : 
O'erjoyed, the smiling group to sweet repose 
Retire, and jest and laugh till sleep their eye-lids close. 







<% Leisure of rural life during continued frost in the depth 
*&* Winter— A ludicrous sketch of a shinny -match, dinner, 
^id ddncing, illustrative of the sports, mode of living, and 
Pastimes of the inhabitants of the Grampians and Western 
-islands. II. When monopoly shall no longer clog the 
*he honest endeavours of industrious individuals, their 
kzudalle exertions may give them a fairer chance of realiz- 
ing independence and dignified ease — A competence, 
however, the rational aim of a man of real worth and 
**noderati<m — That sentiment warmly recommended to 
the GcteL III. A Stork-Farm, by way of joint-stock, 
preferable, perhaps, to any other mode of arrangement, 
*rnight answer best throughout the hilly districts of the north 
<znd west of Scotland — Specific laws relative thereto, of the 
tdtmost importance. IV. Improvements in rural economy 
suggested ; such as watering of land; inclosing for the 
spontaneous growth of wood-^-Culture of moss-ground, fSc. 
y. In order to expedite the free and ready communication 
$/ every district of the Grampians and Hebrides, inland 


navigation earnestly recommended — Episode of Malcol - 
and Morna.— Their children employed in the several dcz 
par tments of useful industry, viz. Store-Farms, Manufacz 
tures, and Fisheries, peculiarly adapted to the local- advarm 
tages of those regions inhabited by the Gael — By means <z 
their Fisheries, the Dutch rose from small beginnings C 
wealth, greatness, and national independence. VI. (M 
the Scottish Fisheries, particularly those of the west 
ern parts — Herring-fishing described — Iurrum, or Choree 
Oar-Song, in which is introduced a characteristic outline o, 
an intrepid, enterprising tjebridian seaman in a voyage U 
Scandinavta, and thence home; the subject varying wit) 
time and place of his adventures — Virtuous Statesmen, 
indefatigable as fskers, brave with equal courage anc 
constancy all manner of difficulty in accomplishing tht 
good of the community at large. VJL The leading maxima 
of Political Economy — Address to our Representatives in 
Parliament to take into immediate consideration the deso- 
late state of the Grampians, and adopt such measures as 
shall in their wisdom appear competent to restrain the rage 
of the sweeping mischiefs of the Sheep-store system; and 
speedily restore an equitable order of things relative to the 
substantial comfort and happiness of the oppressed Gael ; 
as the best means of removing their grievances, and quieting 
their resentment ; of bettering their condition; and ren- 
dering them useful, not only in their several departments 
of necessary labour, ingenuity, and industry ; but also ser- 
viceable in the Army and Navy, in time of war, or 
threatened invasion. 




9 oft slumbers, balmy sleep, or airy joy 

Long winter nights the shepherd's dreams employ. 

Pure is the comfort of serene repose, 

To him disturbed not, when his eye-lids close; 

With frightful visions that alarm the soul, 

And o'er the will usurp a wild controul ; 

Refresh'd he opes his eyes, and light of heart, 

He leaves his couch, to act his daily part. 

And well performs he every rural toil, 

While sweets domestic all his care beguile. 

Now storms are hush'd, and rest in twilight gloom, 
Where polar stars the arctic cliffs relume : 
Where Winter hoar hath piled his icy throne, 
Transfixt, in silence dread he reigns alone. 
While clear the sky, when keen the frost sets in, 
Safe all without, as all seem warm within, 


The cheerful leisure of the Grampian swain, 

Rewards his toil, and pleasure adds to gain : 

At times he to the snow-clad hills resorts, 

Or, ever active, joins in manly sports ; 

Or bless'd with intellect, and well inc]in'd 

To treasure knowledge, and improve the mind, 

(He scorns mispending time in sordid play 

Which some their means thus graceless throw away,) 

He aims at pure and more exalted joys, 

And Winter's leisure wisely thus employs, 

In some pursuit congenial to his views, 

Which he with ardour steadily pursues ; 

Nor rural pastimes disregards, nor mirth, 

That brace the nerves and give new pleasures birth : 

When lore and exercise we thus command, 

Sound health and sanity go hand in hand. 

Th' appointed day is come — th* eventful day, 
When on the snowy field in firm array, 
Glen meeting glen — (yet not with tempered blades, 
But sapling-oaks cut from the neighbouring glades,) 
Engage with ardour keen — in jovial guise — . 
A cask of whisky strong, the victor's prize ! (1) 

'Tis noon — but half the narrow plain is bright, 
The sun just tips the southern hills with light ; 
The mountains gleam that shade the vale below^ 
Clear and reflective with incrusted snow. 

~^" **W Dermid, dexterous in manly art, 
"^**d Douglas of the dale, with dauntless heart* 
^•^€ul to the contest fierce their marshalled ranks ; 
"** o wield their weapons — namely, skinny -shanks. — 
^V^d Dermid dignified in manhood's prime 
raws up his warriors— punctual to the time : 
i, Douglas daring scowls with lofty brow, 
C"To gain the prize who form'd the secret vow) 
•A.s in full march he comes, and eyes askance 
XTie adverse leader and his troops advance. — 

Now front to front the armies in array, 
-Await the signal to begin the fray ; 
llark '.——'tis the signal ! — an ear-piercing smack, 
AVhich bending echo peals as briskly back ; 
The well-struck ball whirls whizzing thro* the air, 
~While each keen combatant with eager glare 
Is on th' alert to hit it ere it fall, 
And to the destined goal urge home the ball: 
Sheer in the centre of the hostile train, 
'The orb now rolls along the glittering plain ; 
How brisk the onset ! — fearless man meets man, 
In kindling ire, of old as clan met clan, 
Aims at the globe, as swells the bickering din, 
Yet hits it not — but hits his neighbour's shin ! 
Club rings on sapling-oak,— or shin, or thigh, 
As in the contest champions keenly vie, ' 


Behold the ball hurled nearly to the gaol , 

But Derm id deftly strikes it with his pole, 

When back it cleaves the gelid air again, 

And laughs to scorn contending efforts vain. 

The doughty Dermid glorying in his might, 

" .Cheer up my lads ! — the prize is ours ere night !" 

Exulting cries — his heroes — one and all, 

Charge with redoubled vigour at his call. 

As when in ire, contentious kites and crows, 
High poised on wing, from chattering come to blows. 
Sublime they mingling wheel from hill to hill, 
And caw and scream, and whet the beak and bill— 
*Tis horrid uproar all !— while crow meets kite, 
Lo, how they tug and thwack, and peck and smite ! 

So fiercely in the fray our warriors bang, 
While victory declares for neither gang ; 
And still they urge the dubious orb along, 
Till Sol declines the Atlantic waves among ; 
When with a powerful arm and sapling-oak, 
Lo, Douglas to the goal with giant stroke 
Home sends the ball ! — high peals the joyous €C hailP' 
While Dermid and his heroes gnaw the nail 1 
Thus ends the contest — but not so the play, 
Our jovial frolicks close not with the day. 

Behold the victor with joy-beaming eyes, 
Triumphant marches with the well-won prize, 


in the hair aloft 'tis placed with care, 
t all anon may drink a liberal share, 
ow groans the social board 'neath viands good, 
lat Scotian swains deem admirable food !) 
5 sheep-head-broth just reeking from the pot, 
re a capacious haggis hissing hot, 
e fat kail-brose a dish beyond compare, 
re beef and greens, O most delicious fare ! 
e smokes a surloin, savoury, brown and nice, 
whoso wants an ample, juicy slice ; 
re venison (chief of viands) lures the eye, 
• which the epicure oft heaves a sigh) ; 
2 mutton small, rear'd on the mountain-waste, 
ender fibre, and of luscious taste ; 
re salr, on, of the scaly race the pride> 
i, fresh, and recent from the water-side, 
o, what a generous feast, salubrious, strong ! 
v keenly da- the gladsome guests among 
various dishes ! — sated, now they pause, 
[ drink a bumper-toast to Freedom's cause — 
ong, long, O Albion, may thy freedom stand, 
ected by the heroes of our native land V 
toast thus circulates by " three times three," 
hall resounds high mirth and cordial glee. (2) 
[ark! — 'tis the merry, dance-inspiring viol! 
how each face beams in a joyous smile. 


* € Remove the cumb'rous board, and clear # the hall ! 

Begin the dance V — is now the general call. 

'Tis done. And pleasing native airs of elder days, 

The violist with peculiar accent plays, 

Respondent too, now join the vocal throng, 

While moves the matron with droll step along. 

Next comes the master and his faithful man, , . ~ 

And deftly dance it to a storied plan. 

A pair succeeds, and in fantastic bound, 

With answering becks, and bobs, and nods course round 

And npw, in airy, movements, graceful, gay, 

Lo, how they trip it to the sweet Strathspey ! 

And as the violist marks with skill the ryhme, 

With ease and elegance they move in time. 

In nice transitions, as he trills the reel. 

See ! with what spirit now they skip and wheel ! 

Thus life and joy and rapture rule the throng, 

While harmless mirth inspires the dance and song. (3 y 

— 'Tis thus, when Winter drear serenely reigns, 

Our sprightly mountain-nymphs and jovial swains, 

Enjoy heart-easing hours of pure delight, , 

The short-liv'd day, and livelong winter-night. 

II. When peace o'er all the earth securely reigns, 
And honest industry its wish obtains ; 
When mean monopoly with selfish views, 
No longer shall simplicity abuse ; 


hen each starts fair, with keen, firm, upright soul, 
*ains every nerve to gain the destin'd goal ; 
Tiile Fortune blindfold whirls her wheel about, 
1 all an equal chance is then held out, 
id talents, industry, and prudent care, 
ty then enjoy of wealth a liberal share ; 
The man of worth, still moderate, aspires 

competence, which once obtain'd, retires 
bll pleas'd to see around him others rise 

independent ease, the wish'd for prize I 

d having braved the sea of public life, 

id weather'd all its storms mid ceaseless strife, 

Ee tnoor'd, he from his cabin calmly sees 

te countless sails that crowd before the breeze— 

om man's meridian onward to old age, 

rener joys declining years engage, 

linear th' appointed bourne, and hastening fast, 

e> free from pain, now softly breathes his last. 

To earn a competence, ye Grampian swains I 

B all your toils propitious — may your gains 

* measured to the just and true design 

°*der social, civil, and benign ; 
*d as ye congregate along our shores* 
^idst our mountains tend the fleecy stores, 
1 guide the plough, or labours of the loom, 
5l * the deep the fisher's cares assume^ 



Be faithful, honest, vigilant, alert, 
A fair example, acting well each part : 
And having earn'd from toil a free release, 
In leisure, soft repose, content, and ease, 
And calm retirement, free from care, or strife, 
You spend the evening of an useful life. 

III. And now that justice poizes fair the scales, 
And well-directed industry prevails, 
That individual welfare rests secure 
Upon the basis firm that shall endure, 
Of dearest interests of the public weal, 
Maintain'd inviolate with an upright zeal ; (4) 
Let then, in common, free to roam at large, 
Your lowing herds, and fleecy bleating charge 
Be managed wisely with judicious care, 
That each may duly claim th' apportioned share (5) 
Proportion'd to the increase of the stock, 
The produce of the dairy, field, or flock. 

On hill, glen, strath> green isle, or sea-beat shore, 
Be this the system of your common-storey 
Of horses /ew ; of cattle, swine, goats, sheep, 
As many as with safety you may keep. 

Be always mindful, that, to overstock, 
Is certain ruin to the herd or flock ; 
Hence, poverty, disease, eventual loss, 
And all the ills that care and toil may cross : 


- prudent therefore — keep a watchful eye v 
ill things that regard thine industry, 

in relaxing, unforeseen events 
i rise to just yet unavailing discontents. (6) 
?. Ye shepherd swains who upland regions range, 

rear your stores through all the Seasons change, 
ird the breeds peculiar to the soil, 
hose the objects of your care and toil, 
ad ye, who on the strath have toil enow 
circling year in labours of the plough, 
ue with hearty zeal your arduous moils, 
Je cheering hope anxiety beguiles, 
o sweep the scythe, or reap the golden grain, 
re the winter fodder from the fain, 

turnip, carrot, parsnip, (luscious fare !) 
storms protracted hoard with timely care. 

lead a thousand rills adown the hill, 
ttundate the verdant sward at will ; 

s fertilized, the bleak and sterile waste 

1 blooms a garden if laid out with taste. 

where the moss-mounds dun, now cheerless spread 
ath yon bending mountain's hoary head : 
heath-clad graves of mountain forests vast 
>se leafly glories long ago have past, 
tenting slowly many a thousand years, 
dormant, nay, tho' dead all may appear, 



Yet, roused to culture by a skilful hahd> 

Those barren moors soon prove most fertile land, 

Inclose a part, a wood it gaily smiles ; 

Place lime-stone o'er the waste in lowly piles, 

Which, decomposing slowly by the air, 

It changes russet wilds to homefields fair. (7) 

If near the sea thy grange and pastures are, 
Sea-ware spread o'er thy fields with liberal care, 
And where it is abundant, with due help, 
Convert the precious ware to purest kelp. 
Thus every gift of nature turn to use, 
For true economy admits not of misuse. 

Those rural labours various to ensure 
Against encroachments that oppress the poor, 
Let plain and simple salutary laws 
Respecting store-farms, clear in every clause, 
Be framed, and pass'd — and giving full effect 
By sanction senatorial to protect 
The rights and privileges well defin'd, 
Of rural industry of every kind. (8) 

V. And then our intercourse to expedite 
To parts most distant (whence we might invite 
Surrounding nations, and in commerce share 
The envy'd plenty of our staple ware) 
Let the Atlantic and the German main 
Meet hand in hand, and be no longer twain. — 


hen from our inland-lakes, and sea-stretch'd arms, 
*om glen, hill, mountain, hastening down in swarms 
ur joyous Gael come with their various stores, 
&d in exchange get those of distant shores. (9) 
So Malcolm sped at Inverlocha's mart ; 
fc close of day, when thence he did depart, 
to the hills ascending, on his way 
it beauteous Morn a, blooming, mild and gay, 
ancient race the lovely charmer came, 
e song of former bards of deathless name ; 
valiant race was Malcolm too, but poor, 
t rich in love's inestimable store, 
form most manly, dignified in ease, 
ijoin'd with every grace the fair can please, 
nind enrich'd with plain, yet sterling sense, 
honest, feeling heart, of price immense : 
1 virtues feminine, angelic grace 
e charms to Morna's form and heavenly face: 
saw — he lov'd — she loved him in return, 
ir souls in mutual flame now equal burn ; 
ten hearts unite, soon willing hands are join'd, 
1 thus a pair unmingled raptures find ; 
is sweetest bondage, blissful hours employ 
>land endearments true-love's promised joy : 
pass'd the swift-wing'd months which our fond pair, 
t stole from busy scenes, of rural care. 


And having heard whertf farms the sea hard by 

On lease were let, of ranges low and high, 

For kine of choicest breed, and native sheep 

To feed along the shore, or climb the steep, 

Where shoals immense float round the neighbouring isles, 

Where jolly seamen brave th' advent'rous toils— 

Now, thither Malcolm and his fair One speed — 

And in their well-form'd plans they soon succeed: 

By turns he guides the plough — ascends the hill* 

And ranks as rustic-chief in rural skill j 

And beauteous Morna, now a mother blest, 

Her smiling darling presses to her breast, 

She finds the lover in the tender friend, 

And feels domestic sweets all other joys transcend ! 

Thus twice ten summers roll'd serenely on 
Since Morna and her Malcolm were made one, 
Three sons, two lovely daughters grace their board, 
To portion whom of store they can afford 
A liberal share, the produce of the fold, 
Reserving still enow, should they wax old, 
For all the comforts of declining years, 
Secure from indigence and all its fears. 

Now Malcolm's sons to manhood nearly grown. 
An useful employ each has of his own ; 
One tends the field and fold, one plies the loom, 
The third a fisher, train'd at famed jjochbroom. 


s each with knowledge industry combines, 

*ch in his arduous calling foremost shines, 

tid as beseems them, when their views expand, 

^ith ease they labour to each other's hand > 

he fleecy treasure to the loom is sold, 

he woof is soon transmuted into gold ; 

he trim built buss deep-laden ploughs the main, 

r ith staple wares, and soon returns again. 

was thus Batavia's sons in times remote, 

aved the rude billows midst th' immense live-float, 

te golden mine, whence all their riches sprung, 

hich braced the sinews of their state, then young. 

us Carthage rose, — and Venice spread around ; 

id famed Damsluys gain'd from the sea her ground— « 

►ble examples-— worthy of renown I 

nation's industry is sure its fairest crown ! (10) 

VI. Hebridian mariners ! of time beware, 

ert the well-mann'd buss ye now prepare 

ith casks in store, and strong wrought net and line, 

hich dropping deep into the heaving brine, 

on draw, in scaly thousands thus to pack 

ive and flickering on the loaded deck ; 

ten down anew ye plunge the tackle strong, 

id haul a draught miraculous erelong; 

en with due care hoard up the finny store, 

id hasten. homeward laden to the shore : 


Thence soon returning to tb* advent , roustoil,(ll) 
In choral song the tedious time beguile, 
Whilst onward gliding on the buoyant breeze, 
Or dashing dauntless o'er the foaming seas. 

Be patient, seamen ! — should the accustom'd banks 
Be by the myriads in their roving pranks 
Forsaken for a time — yet soon they'll come 
By instinct led as to a native home. (12) 

They come ! they come ! the scaly hordes appear ! 
Lo there !— see yonder ! — now behold them here ! 
As streams th' aurora of the northern pole, 
So, swiftly playful, shoal darts after shoal ; 
While round the windings of the spacious bay. 
Are seen the huge voracious fish of prey ; 
Husb'd are the breezes, and deep stillness all, 
And heard the smallest peeble when let fall ; 
The land-lock'd sea-arm motionless and cleat 
Reflects the bending mountains far and near, 
. The sun departing from the beaming shore 
In mildest lustre, fading more and more, 
Now faintly lingers on yon mountain's brow, 
Serenely sinking midst his golden glow ; 
The setting-gleam the distant hills between 
Darting, relumes the soft aerial scene 
As night draws on, the shadpws long and deep, 
Q'er noiseless wpvps their solemn vigils keep. 


sither side the curling smoke ascends 
wooded lawns, with rising mist it blends~ 
sea-birds wheel in many an airy round, 
ousand echoes to their cries resound. 
i and unerring thus their prey pursue 
own they plunge among the scaly crew. 
in their stations moor'd the bay along, 
rim-built busses seem a countless throng, 
e signal's heard — skiffs mann'd push off in swarms, 
ply the sweeping oars with brawny arms ; 
teze springs up, and curls the slumb'ring bay, 
buoyant skiff before it skims away — 
lestin'd bank approaching, all prepare 
loot the train, and heave the tackle there, 
:his accomplished, soon the finny hordes 
de the lab'rynths of the meshy chords— r 
. the seamen haul the deep-laid snare, , 

pour the draught into their skiff with care, 
us toil they on, as wear^ away the night, 
vhile the full-orb'd moon her streaming light 
l o'er the wavy bosom of the bay, 
ills around salute the dawn of day ; 
mists ascend the mountain's awful breast, 
which the golden top- cliffs seem to rest, 
usand rills gush headlong, wild, unseen, 
izy windings thro' the pine- wood green, 


Or 'mong the mountain-ash, oak, birch-tree tall, 
Where hazel-groves embower the water-fall— 
The breathing fragrance of the dewy fields 
A feast delicious to the senses yields ; 
Meanwhile the busses deeply laden, veer, 
Slow to the sun-shine beach they now draw near, 
To sounding oars the choral iurrum swells, (13) 
While echoes join from out their secret cells. 

" Ho roe i loe' ! come poize the sweeping oar ! 

Thus braved our sires the deep, in days of yore ! 
€( Our rude forefathers gloried in the chace, 
And dangers of the deep they did embrace ; 
They launch'd the skiff, and trusting every wind, 
A star their compass, home they left behind. 
To distant realms before the freshening gale 
O'er foamy tides they hoist the thong-bound sail ; 
While Lochlin's sons espy the prow afar, 
They hail the radiant speck, a rising star : 
If peace allured, or war urg'd on our sires, 
Or friend, or foe, their love or courage fires. 

Ho roe i loe ! come pull the sounding oar ! 

So sweept our sires the deep, in days of yore ! 
i( Or when Britannia from her sea-beat isles 
Calls forth her heroes to their warlike toils, 
Rous' d at her mandate Caledonians fly 
To meet her foes, to conquer or to die ! 


t!o roe i loe ! be valiant evermore ! 

Subdue the foe as did our sires of yore ! 

<Vhen foes lie conquer'd — war's rude rage is sthTd, 

d fate's dire fiats awfully fulfill'd, 

me every warrior-seaman gladly steers 

meet the object of his hopes and fears. 

Ho, roe, i loe ! the maids whom they adore, 

Prove faithful to their vows forcvermore ! 
Thus Norman, Malcolm's son, who went afar 

brave the dangers of the distant war, 
turn'd in gladness to his native place, 
id melt in Nora's rapturous embrace, 
>w sound of limb, health blooming o'er his cheek, 
: meets the beauteous maid all mild and meek, 
silent rapture each to other flies, 
eir souls dissolve in thrilling extacies ! 

Ho roe i loe ! such joys hath love in store ! 

Come, pull amain the sounding sweeping oar ! 
Friends of their union warmly did approve, 
id soon a smiling pledge did crown their love : 
id now to plough the foamy surge once more, 
i left his Nora, child, and native shore. 

Ho roe i loe ! he braves the ocean's roar ! 

Come, pull amain the sounding sweeping oar ! 
'Twas midst of Autumn's still and solemn reign, 
Tien fishers nightly brave the western main, 


That Norman bound for Scandinavia's coast, 
Near Kilda's isle on swelling billows tost, 
Descried around him, heaving up to view, 
The brooding storm's wild lour, and glaring hue $ 
To Hirta's sons a signal is display 'd, 
Humane, alert, of perils not afraid 
They hail the strangers — soon with matchless skill 
The bark haul'd to the beach, lay safely on its keel. 

Ho roe i loe ! so did their sires of yore ! 

Who fearless climb'd the rocks and pois'd the oar ! 
€C The kindest welcome — all attention due 
Did Norman prove, as did his storm-tost crew ; 
Three days and nights the furious tempest raged, 
The while the strangers gladly were engaged 
In festive dance and song, and homely cheer, 
Till — sad event ! — a loss the most severe 
The harmless people doom'd to undergo, 
Befell, and plung'd them into hopless woe ! 

Ah ! hoe i loe ! a loss they long deplore ! 

The wail ascends round Kilda's rocky shore I 
" High on yon rugged steep's impending brow, 
Swept by the gust down to the gulf below 
To rise no more ! — his eyes closed in death's sleep, 
The island's Chief floats on the foamy deep ! 

Ah ! hoe i loe ! Chief of the thong and oar ! 

floats on the raging surge to rise no more I 


TTie song of woe swells out in plaintive wail 
*d wildly mingling with the howling gale, 
* with the mournful widow all condole, 
Soothing sadness pour'd into the soul. 
Ah ! hoe i loe ! Chief of the thong and oar, 
Floats on the raging surge, to rise no more ! 
Well may you mourn his fall, companions dear ! 
is name remembrance fondly shall revere— 
le fearless climber of the frowning rock, 
he skilful farmer, — feeder of your flock, 
tie watchful sea-bird fowler, — ah ! no more 
lall dauntless skip yon Soa's cliffy shore ! 
Ah! hoe' i loe! Chief of the thong and oar, 
Floats on the raging surge to rise no more ! 
The screaming wild-fowl skim the foamy wave, 
le solan-birds wheel o'er his watery grave ! 
y share of all shall wing the rising blast, 
r hile others rifle every downy nest, 
nee thou, my soul's delight, art lowly laid, 
id from mine eyes, in death's cold, dreary bed ! 
Ah ! hoe i loe ! Chief of the thong and oar, 
Sleeps in his narrow bed, to wake no more ! 
Thy mother wildly tears her hoary hair> 
hy frantic sister's wailings pierce the air, 
hy brother's griefs heart-rending doleful swell, 
hy shrieking babes 1 — their woes, ah ! who can tell ! 


Ah ! hoc i loe ! Chief of the thong and oar 

Sleeps in his narrow bed, to wake no more ! 
€< Mourn on ye friends most dear ! — ye much-lov'd fe w J 
Dear, dear to him — as dear he was to you — 
The friend of peaceful men is now laid low ! 
Our cause of heavy mourning, hopless woe ! (14) 

Ah ! hoe i loe ! Chief of the thong and oar, 

Sleeps in his narrow bed to wake no more ! 
€C From Kilda Norman and his crew depart, 
And leave the friendly natives sad of heart : 
But Norman ploughs the deep on buoyant sail, 
And speeds to distant lands before the gale. 

Ho roe i loe ! he lists to ocean's roar ! 

With joy he speeds to Scandinavia's shore ! 
€C But adverse winds perplex — and faithless tides- 
Mislead his devious way, he boldly guides 
The strong-built prow that cuts the whizzing wave, 
For cheering hope attends the truly brave. 

Ho roe i loe ! he hears dread ocean's roar ! 

Infuriate rolling from bleak Iceland's shore 1 
€C Again he rides the storm — the deepening gloom 
Heaves all around — no stars the sky relume- 
Before the powerful blast he sweeps along 
The wild terrific watery hills among ! 

Ho roe i loe ! he smiles at ocean's roar ! 

With sea-room wide, he fears no dire lee-shore ! 


he storm is past, the ambient air is clear, 
* Norman Iceland's dreary coast is near, 
-re to refit, the haven safely gains— 
sinwhile explores the hills and dark-green plains. 
Ho roe i loe ! how bleak the dreary shore ! 
Of Iceland's lonely isle of mountain's hoar \ 
}read nature's wonders now meet Norman's ga2e, 
5 Geyzer's boiling chaldron, Heckla's blaze, 
d far as eye can carry, round and round, 
tm piled huge haggard hills, and lava- mound, 
?ast, bleak, rugged region all appears, 
e smouldering furnace of ten thousand years I 
Ho roe i loe ! how wild the dreary shore ! 
Of Iceland's lonely isle of mountains hoar ! 
iTet in this isle, so dreary, rude and wild 
race there dwells, of manners bland and mild, 
d whom of ancestors in days of yore 
a boast, renown'd for skill in letter'd lore, 
lien arts and science, lost midst Gothic gloom, 
climes Elysian sunk into the tomb ! 
Ah hoe ! then woe spread o'er the muse's shores! 
They northward fled where Arctic ocean roars ! 
ngenious Icelanders ! — ye, frank, and kind 1 
)' poor in earthly joys, yet rich in mind ! 
ce to your sterile wilds ! — your long, long nights ! 
your's the social-bond's most pure delights 1 


Sweet converse — frugal fare — the dance and song 
Your cares beguile — thus winter seems not long ! (15) 
Ho roe i loe ! o'er Iceland's friendly shore, 
Content and peace shall beam for evermore ! 
€t To shores Norwegian, Norman boldly steers, 
Th* obedient bark to eastward duly veers ; 
As onward heaving o'er the rolling tide 
On gales that blow from frozen ocean wide, 
The seaman views afar without dismay, 
Where long and cheerless night usurps the day : 
Where dread sea-monsters of the northern main, 
Sea-snakes, sea-scorpions , mer-maids, and mer-men 9 
*Mongst boist'rous billows, Greenland-whales resort, 
And huge Leviathans 'mongst vast krakens sport ! 
Where whirlpools foam-*-and Malestrom's furious surgi 
Doth scaly hydras to its vortex urge ; 
Yet daundess Norman ploughs through boundless seas, 
And bears away before the fresh 'ning breeze. 
Ho roe i loe ! the drear Norwegian shores, 
Midst twilight gloom brave Norman now explores. 
C€ Ere Norman wist, mid-winter's keen, keen frost 
In icy chains bound Scandinavia's coast. 
His bark transfixt — himself and jovial crew 
The joys of mirth and jollity pursue. 

Ho roe i loe ! how snug they live ashore ! 
And oft they swell the table's joyous roar ! 


cc But ah ! poor Nora, anxious, looks afar, 
To watch the coming of her faithful tar ! 
In vain she climbs the summit of yon hill, 
• The ice-bound bay his prow transfixes still ! 
Ah hoe ! ah hde ! the ocean's distant roar, 
Accordant soothes poor Nora's saddening core ! 
" Ye maids of Lochlin ! do not him detain ! 
Restore toy Norman to mine arms again ! 
Your beauteous form, your lovely bloom of face, 
Your glowing charms, your witching mein and grace, 
The side-long glance of your love-beaming eyes 
May seize my faithful Norman by surprise — 
But, maids ! beware ! altho' your arms entwine 
My true-love's neck — yet all his soul is mine ! 
Return my Norman !" Nora thus implores, 
As wildly gazing o'er thf Hebridian shores- 
Ah hoe ! ah hoe ! the ocdkVdistant roar 
Accordant soothes poor Nora's saddening core ! 
v Full, fresh, and strong, now blows the vernal breeze, 
And wakes the slumbering shores of northern seas, 
Gales waft anon ten thousand laden prows, 
Airiongst the foremost Norman's homeward ploughs. 
Ho roe i loe ! how sweet is ocean's roar, 
When homeward glides his bark the breeze before ! 
" Past Foeroe-isles, to Innistore now near, 
He joyful hails the friendly shore, tho' drear : 


And views the spot where low in dust was laid 
Once Allin's hope, the fair Norwegian Maid. 

Ah hoe in woe did Albin long deplore 

The royal maid that died in Innistore! (16) 
Recalls to mind, how Bothwell base, abhorr'd, 
(Thule's chief, ill-fated Mary's once-lov'd lord) 
"Assumed the rover on these raging »eas ; 
By Grange pursu'd, the faithless Bothwell flees. 

Ho roe i loe ! the rover pois'd the oar ! 

And dread alarms spread round Thule's dreary shore! 
" In Denmark seiz'd — the tyrant meets his doom, 
A dungeon loathsome finds a living tomb ; 
While o'efr him creep envenom'd reptiles vile, 
And snaky monsters round and round him coil, 
Whose hissings drown his agonizing cries, 
Ten thousand deaths the gnashing murderer dies I 

trie ma 

Ho roe i loe ! he IffPfcsmear'd in gore ! 

So perish tyrants ! as they did of yore ! (17) 
" Famed Haco, Lochlin's haughty warlike king, 
(Of whom the Scalds of Scandinavia sing) 
When all his mighty deeds in arms had pass 'd, 
In Kirkwal languish'd, sunk, and breath'd his last ! 8 ) 
Here oft caroused grim Odin's ruthless race, 
And hail'd Hadninga's bay, a safety-place j 
Here Lodbroc fierce sprang from his sea-borne barge* 
Hew'd with his sword, and "split the shiver'd targe; 


Purple gore the warrior had his full ! 
n quafFd an ember draught from Waldave's scull 1 
Ho roe i loe ! then Hilda's joys did roar ! 
Wh$n Lochlin's sons laid waste our western shore ! (19) 
ow Norman steers thro' Pentland's whirling deeps, 
round Cape-wrath's dark brow he boldly sweeps, 
es the Wraith that rules the mingling storm, (30) 
ower tremendous, as of awful form ! 
>n her rock reclined, she hears afar 
h hellish joy the elements dire war, 
>nward brawling loud — and louder still, 
le lightnings livid flash, and thunders peal, 
mighty whirlwinds wildly sweep along 
bleak, bare, rocky shore, and cliffs among ! * 
rlo roe i loe ! how fearful ocean's roar ! [shore I 

When storms howl raging round Cape-zvrath's dread 
le Wraith far o'er the flood now darts a glance, 
ile round her cloud-cap'd. cliff in vigil-dance, 
fiend-like imps, laugh wildly, glad to view 
storm-toss'd bark, and hopeless toil-worn crew$. 
rudder lash'd, and to the waves consign'd, 
s under bare poles scud before the wind ! 
r darting swiftly thro' the breakers dire, 
riate foaming mid blue- sparkling fire, 
prow devoted onward shoots amain, 
I dash'd to shivers, strews the foaming main ! 

k 2 



Ho roe i loc ! how fearful ocean's roar ! [$hor< 

When raging storms howl round Cape-wrath's dres 
Be patient Nora ! — now on fav'ring gales 
Thy Nortnan sweeps — the western isles he hails, 
Along theif shores his prow's bright sails appear, 
He comes ! he comes ! — thy faithful Norman's neat ! 
Arrived ! — he rushes to her longing arms ! 
She gives him all her soul and glowing charms ! 
They strain their darling pledge from breast to breast, 
And in soft raptures calmly sink to rest. 

Ho roe i loe ! they love still more and more ! 

So loved their sires in peaceful days of yore !' 
Thus cheerly carol'd the night-toiling crew, 
As onward laden to the shore they drew. 
Thus, toil, and rest alternate, fishers know, 
(The lot to man awarded here below), 
And brave, contented, firm, devoid of fear, 
The dangers various of the changeful year. 

So patriots toil in senatorial war, • 
Nor heed how adverse parties harshly jar ; 
In view the object dearest to the heart, 
With upright zeal they act an arduous part ; 
Their country's welfare firmly to preserve, 
(True to their trust, and from it scorn to swerve) ; 
They persevere, how hard soe'er the task, 
Ti\l justice grant what truth andj/itness ask. 


VII. What constitutes a nation truly great ? 
By laws when wisely ruled, a well-poised state 
On culture rests : Prop'd by the plough and spade, ^ ^ ;W 
Thus, useful employs, and extensive trade, *' i ' **» 

Maintain its commerce ; — -that magnific whole 
Remains secured by Freedom's mild controul. 

The poor man's riches, consolation, joy, 
Consist in children — whom he may employ 
In various industry : 'Tis thus a state, 
By population is made truly great. 

The wealth of nations, their establish'd power, 
Their glory, honour, bulwark and strong tower, 
Best on man's labour, industry, or art, 
Each individual acting well his part. 
And hence this obvious truth,— ottr- nation's wealth 
Consists in numbers, sound in mind and health, 
Ingenious, active, and whose industry 

Pervades our pities, land, and boundless sea. (21) 
Ye free-born Senators ! with patriot-eye 

Mark how the Grampians, that far distant lie, 

In silent solitude the shades assume 

Of drear depopulation's hopeless gloom ; 

Where flourished thousands erst, whose early days 

Iloll'd on contented, till most wretched ways, 

Of late devised, obtain, and sad to tell ! 

That now lay waste those mountains, and expel 

k 3 


Our hardy race of Gael, our Army's pride, 
Our N avy's prop— turn'd to the desart wide ! 
—Arouse ! ye guardians ! from your slumbers wake; ! 
Arrest the evil, lest the State it shake 
A death-wound's aim'd ! — avert the- fatal blow ! 
Seize on Oppression ! — lay th' Oppressor low ! 
Recal the wand'rers to their native home, 
Subdue the cause that urges them to roam; 
Let means to ends be then adjusted well, 
That so th' ingenious aptly may excel ; 
That each engaged in local enterprise 
By virtuous diligence may higher rise ; 
That modest worth, the fruits of honest gain 
In peace and comfort freely may maintain* 
Behold the prospect opening to the view ! 
How joyous ! how hearNcheering ! — muse ! pursue 
In fond idea, pois'd on fancy's wings, 
The fair arrangement of these blessed things ! 
IiO Envy, Avarice, and Discord fly 
Howling aloft along the troubled sky, 
Chaced hence by Albion's Genius in his ire, 
Amidst dark rolling smoke, and heaven's consuming fir^ . * 
The labouring clouds dispart— soar on and see 
The soft, mild dawn of rising liberty ! 
The prospect brightens — see wide o'er the strand 
The day-spring darts around the joyou? (and ! 


u? hoary Grampians smiling lift their heads, 
tid catch th' effulgence northward as it spreads ! 
Behold the glorious aera ! — now, no more 
tall Emigration desolate our shore ; 
3 more Depopulation, worst of ills, 
i gloom shall compass round our isles and hills. 
-And when protected by specific laws, 
ild, and appropriate to the glorious cause,* 
*en, each content, his property secure, 
"fce'd from monopoly— of gain full sure, 
fill gladly diligence pursue, thus free, 
1 arts mechanic, toils by land and sea. 
tfound our lakes., along our winding vales, 
^ur sea-arms studded o'er with countless sails), 
amlets, and villages, and towns appear, 
■teied in all the labours of the year : 
>J **e tend their herds and flocks — some ply the loom, 
***e turn the glebe, — the seaman some assume, 
hile some fair science, some the muses woo, 
L d some the arts of polish'd life pursue, 
•lighten'd more and more, their joys increase, 
^y feel the sweets of liberty and peace ; 
^ culture of the mind they highly prize, 
*cl well they know, as in proportion rise 
^ pure and intellectual powers of mind, 
towers the happiness of human kind. 


As talents, timely diligence, and skill 

(When morals pure pervade the pliant will) a 

Surmount all obstacles, to gain regard, 

And claim the tribute of a just reward ; 

Press forward, countrymen ! — 'the prize is yours. 

United energy your aim secures. 

A patriot-band in Britain still remain 

Bent on the means strict justice to maintain. 

The General Good promoted thus will .stand 

Firm as Britannia's fertile sea-girt land ; 

While blest with Freedom, Competence, and Health, 

Our Population, Industry, and Wealth, 

As in the scale of nations we aspire, 

Shall rouse the world to wonder and admire !~ 

And, should the foe defy — then, undismayed, 

In hostile columns, burnish'd arms array'd, 

Our future heroes, patriots all enroll'd, 

Will leave the loom, the bark, the field, the fold* 

fjo hurl just vengeance on our country's foes, 

Ponquer, or die ! — a Briton's enyied close, ! 







?ads all the horrors of a living tomb.-T^P. 6. 

ring the confines of the Grampian mountains, 
er from the south is, at first sight, struck with, 
py aspect of every thing around him, " There 
ilence and solitude of inactive indigence and 
depopulation," as Johnson elegantly expresses it, 
ips the emotions of wonder and admiration the 
y of varied and magnificent prospects, are calcu- 
excite in the mind of a person, susceptive of the 
of nature, on a grand scale. It may so happen, 

silence may be interrupted by a shrill whistle 

om a distance, immediately succeeded by the 

of a dog. On turning to whence those sounds 

, the traveller discerns on the summit of a craggy 

:e between him and the sky, a human figure 

over, whistling, and waving with his hand, to 

more minute observation he perceives' to be a 
xlient to his master's signals, urging with singur 


lar sagacity whither he directs, a few wandering sheep : 
— a circumstance which cannot fail to mark strongly the 
desolate appearance of the country to the observant stran- 
ger ; and strikingly characteristic of the great evil com- 
plained of throughout the present performance. 

2 N 

But to encounter poverty and woe. — P. 7. 

It is hardly to ^e conceived with what indifference 
Highland Chieftains of the present day see the last of their 
people take their departure for America ; never to return 
to the spot dear to them by those ties which bind the 
high and the low, the rich and the poor, to their native 
country. A solitary instance, however, to the contrary 
of this strange apathy, on the part of certain proprie- 
tors of land,* has lately come to my knowledge, which, 
as forming an exception, is worthy of being noted ; were 
it for no other reason than merely to shew, that some 
may feel a temporary stirring of conscience, when perhaps 
too late, for deeds done under impressions of self-interest, 
prudence, or extreme necessity. 

Among the very latest emigrations from the middle 
districts of the Grampians, were the wretched remains of 
a certain clan, which from motives of delicacy I forbear 
to name. The unfortunate emigrants particularly allud- 
ed to had been legally warned to remove from the pos- 
sessions they had inherited from their forefathers, and a 
few shepherds introduced in their stead, at the usual term 
of entering on store -farms — when the alternative of wan J 
dering about the country without employment, or enfi? 
grating to a foreign land, .presented. Seduced, poor things* 


^th the hope of bettering their condition, they chose to 
join their relations in America : and accordingly, having 
- hired a vessel for that purpose, they were on the eve of 
" e Parture, when their Chieftain presented himself with his 
** at in hand, and tears in his eyes, entreating them to re- 
tUr ^; and that he would provide them in possessions 
^eeable to their wishes, in any part of his paternal in- 
;* e Htance they might pitch on — save only those they had 
J u st been turned out of. But the refractory emigrant? 
^<*uld not listen to their common benefactor and guar- 
^^n of their ancient rights and privileges ! — they return- 
^t his loving kindness with taunts, sneers, and reproach- 
^ .' . He at length left them to pursue their hazardous 
^lterprize ; consoling himself with the idea that he had 
***me all in his power to prevent them from putting their 
**^Lsh design into execution : feeling &t the same time the 
**iward satisfaction that, being thus rid of a set of indo- 
lent, poor creatures, though connected with them by the. 
Courtesy of clanship, his income had increased from nine 
hundred to six thousand a year, which he now enjoys 
^vith little trouble to himself in collecting, and much read 
comfort in spending : — circumstances which must great- 
ly overbalance, or completely stifle any intrusive qualms 
that might occasionally haunt his moments of serious re^ 
flection, for having been the cause of banishing from 
their native country so many wretched families, whom he 
himself was bound in duty to protect, agreeable to ancient 
usage of that portion of our island, in which peculiar 
manners and customs prevail. 


Within the cultured in-field* s ancient bound. — P. 8. 

Pretty distinct traces are still observable on the sidts 
of many hills near the banks of a mountain -rivulet, of 
in-field and out-field, (terms immediately to be explain- 
ed, as relative to the former state of rural economy among 
the Gael :) but the larach or site of the huts and houses 
(a groupe of which formed a hamlet, village, or baile) 
are seldom to be seen, as these have not only be6n suffer* 
ed to fall into ruin, but even the stones have been re- 
moved in most places, in order to let the grass grow ; 
which generally is of a rank and succulent quality, and 
springs earlier in the season than that on the more ele- 
vated plats of pasture. The division of in-field and out- 
field, is of very remote origin in North Britain. At what 
time it was introduced into the districts of the Grampians, 
I am unable with precision to ascertain. As hunting 
and fishing were not only the amusements, but also the 
chief employs of the ancient inhabitants ; it is but rea- 
sonable to conclude, that agriculture was but little re- 
garded among men, indolent from habit, and active only 
when war or the chace excited their thirst of distinction, 
or administered to their immediate wants. Be this as it 
may, certain, it is that husbandry was practised universal- 
ly throughout the mountainous parts of Scotland, as well 
as the western islands, many hundred years ago $ and the 
division of in-field and out-field, run-rig, r rig-and-ren- . 
net, or rig-and-lalk, was very generally adopted in the 
social arrangement of rural affairs. As the territory of a 
Clan (consisting of several lesser tribes, or branches of 
the same community) was occupied in a manner pecu* 




liar to the distribution of lands among hills, narrow val~ 
lies, or insulated situations, which from the ruggedness 
of the particular spot, or sterility of the soil, admitted but 
of very limited improvement in the mode of culture,— 
hence their little Sabine farms yielded but small returns 
for their labour, which was more or less operose as the 
nature of the territory or district of country was barren or 
fertile. Now, as the Tighearna, Cean-Finich, or Chief, 
had under his patriarchal protection, chieftains, and heads 
of families, and those again still more subordinate adher- 
ents of still lower condition, besides mere labourers or 
herdsmen, the possessions were of consequence sub- 
divided conformable to this order ; and accordingly we 
find that the Laird, Lord, or Tighearna, had his place of 
residence on a bold projecting rock hanging over a sea- 
arm, or on an islet in a lake ; or at the confluence of a 
rirer, to which several mountain-streams are tributary; 
along the banks of which, among the windings of the 
narrow glens, the houses and huts of the subordinate 
chieftains, heads of families, lesser branches, poorer re- 
latives, and menial dependents, had their in-field and 
out-field possessions ; of which traces are still observable 
where those subdivisions of arable lands took place. Now 
the farms consisted of three divisions, viz. in-field, out- 
, field, and hill-pasture. The infield was so called from the 
circumstance of its being that division of the arable ground 
which was inclosed with either a turf, or stone wall, and 
was kept in constant tillage. The out-field, was that di- 
vision immediately adjoining the former, which was but 
occasionally ploughed ; and, after it afforded a few succes- 
sive crops, was suffered to acquire a sward spontaneously; 


after which it was again tilled, and a few more scanty 
crops reaped, till it was completely exhausted. This 
mode of agriculture requires no comment. The third 
division, namely hill-pasture, will furnish subject-matter 
for a future note, and shall be explained In course. Those 
two divisions were subdivided into what is termed ruri± 
fig, rig-and-rennet, or rig-and-lalk, a wretched relic of 
feudal times, when the conflict of the clans raged through- 
out the Grampians and western isles. In order that eacfii 
individual should have an interest in common to stimu- 
late him in the defence of the cause, his possessions lay 
dispersed here and there ariiong those of his neighbours. 
And the one rig (ridge) running in a direction (generally 
curveliar) to that of another, with interstices, Consisting 
of stones heaped up that were gathered year after year 
when labouring the ground, which was called the balk ; 
or, if free from stones, those interstices served for pasture, 
on which the calves were tethered during Summer and 
Autumn ; arid also, (particularly on the borders,) those 
interstices being always clear of any corn-crop, whenever 
a marauding party made their appearance, the alarm was 
given ; and each male capable of defending his property 
ran up the rig to oppose them hand to hand. 

Where stood the smithy, w/iere the hqimleVs mill. — P. 8; 

The smithy and the mill are usually the places of rural 
gossip in almost every part of civilized Europe* Among 
a people devoted to warfare and toils of the chace, the 
profession of smith was honourable as necessary. Hence 
we find in many parts of the north the calling or craft of 


smith continuing in the same family for .many ages, t 
Myself know a smith Who is the fourteenth in a direct 
^fescent that succeeded from father to son as hereditary 
^ituth in the parish of Callander > Monteith, where,* dur- 
^g youth, he wrought at the same anvil which rung to 
***€ hammer of thirteen of his forefathers in regular suc- 
^«8ion r till he emigrated about forty years ago to Edin- 
**ugbi where he still lives. All the world has heard 
JffMacnab the smith of Dalmaly in Glenorchy, Argyle-^ 
*\ire,, whose ancestors were hereditary blacksmiths, ar- 
mourers, &c. for four "hundred years back. It was of 
^ld a perquisite of the smith, to have the head of every 
t»w slaughtered among the clan* And even in the low- 
lands, the smiddy or smith's shop constituted a branch of 
the' services > to which tenants were bound to have their 
implements of husbandry made, horses shod, &c. and has 
only been abolished very lately in many parts of Scotland. 
Whatjs called thirlage to corn-mills, another species of 
sen/ice highly prejudicial to agricultural improvement, is 
fast on the decline throughout every district where the pro- 
prietor id possessed of common spnse, and has a due re- 
spect" for the good of the community at large; At what 
particular period corn-mills were introduced into the Gram- 
pians and Hebrides, I am by no means certain. But, 
that such, of a very simple construction, were erected in 
many parts of the highlands, similar to those then in ge- 
neral u*e throughout the lowlands and islands of Orkney 
and Zetland, we have evident proofs. This species of 
water-mill has but one wheel, having its axle fixed to the 
mill-stones, which move atone and the same instant, when 


the water-force is applied, which is at an angle of 45 degrees* 
and sometimes horizontal. A mill-stone of this descrip- 
tion is to be seen at the side of a small brook called Alt* 
larcih stFkearsaid, apart of theDuke of Gordon's property 
in Lochaber. The person who is said to have erected the 
mill in this almost inaccessible part of the Grampians, is 
mentioned in a very ancient popular song, entitled, Oram 
na ComJiachaig ; which shows that water-mills had been 
in use among the Gael in very remote times ; the precise 
period, however, is uncertain. But, querns, or hand- 
mills, for the most part, were preferred ; and the com- 
pulsatory resort to water-mills, by that means, eluded. 
It is curious to reflect on the universal use of the 
hand-mills in different sections of the globe, and in ages 
very remote from each other* Thus, for instance, the 
ancient Egyptians, Jews, Greeks and Romans, as we learn 
from history, ground their grain with hand-mills : and 
the inhabitants of Africa, and the Finlanders at this day, 
make use of the hand-mill, as appears by the latest tra- 
vellers into the interior of Africa, and others toward the 
Arctic circle. Vide M. Park's travels, Acerbi's, &c. 
By the ancient law, or " Statutes of the Gild* 9 of Scot- 
land, " It is not leisome to grinne corns at hand-mills, but 
in time of necessitie. 99 Stat. Gild. c. 19. FideREQiAU 
Majestatem, fol. 143. et index, 


Or praises challenge by some new-made verse. — P. 8. 

The natives oi the Grampians and western islands have 
ever been celebrated for their attachment to song. Martin, 
in his u Destripuunoi the Western Islands of Scotland/* 


notices thig circumstance in the words following 5 €S Se* 
veral of both sexes have a quick vein for poesy, and in 
their language, (which is very emphatic) "they compose 
thyme and verse, both which powerfully affect the fancy/' 
p. 198. And t have myself known many individuals of 
both sexes, very expert at making excellent verses, who 
were totally illiterate ; and two of the best modern poets 
still living, know not one letter of the alphabet from the 
other, namely, Allan M'Dougal, a blind man at Fort 
William, whose songs were printed in the year 1798 ; 
and Duncan M'Intyre, whose songs were first printed 
in the year 1768, and reprinted in 1790* " Oran Bein* 
Dourain," is perhaps one of the finest pieced of lyric com- 
position to be met with in any language, ancient or mo- 
dem, for variety and grandeur of local description* 


And gaze and wonder much, and much admire,— «-P. 8* 

. The avidity with which rustics swallow every species 
tf intelligence, new or uncommon, has long been pro- 
verbial : this trait, however, among highlanders, has been 
on the decline for nearly half a century ; and it was so 
Jbuch so in the year 1773, when Dr Johnson visited the 
Hebrides, that he remarked it as a thing little expected. 
** I did not meet with the inquisitiveness of which I have 
*ead/* says he, " and suspect the judgment to have been 
Rashly made." The fact is, their curiosity is still very 
great ; but being more enlightened by being better edu- 
cated than formerly, they have means of being gratified 
in what is commendable to know ; consequently their 
curiosity is managed with more circumspection } parti - 

l 2 


cularly before a stranger ; and they are too v'ain to be 
thought ignorant. At present, however, their means of 
acquiring useful knowledge, are ample beyond what their 
southern neighbours have the slightest idea. And the 
post-offices now established throughout the Grampians, 
and Western Isles, afford so ready a communication with 
the whole habitable globe, that the means of intelligence 
is' uninterrupted, and wonderfully expeditious; nay, where 
even the post-town is at any considerable distance, thinly 
inhabited as the glens and hills a,t present are, the people, by 
a very simple yet ingenious contrivance, make shift to cir- 
culate the newspapers as regular as. the news-men dis-f 
patch them to their customers ; and the mode is, the read* 
er in one glen ascends the hill next him, and leaves the 
paper under a stone, in a place agreed on betwixt the 
parties ; and thus, except in the worst weather, what the 
great world is busy about, is known in the very wilder- 
ness of our empire ; and our Grampian politicians are 
not a whit behind their neighbours in the south, in point 
of eagerness for information on every topic worthy of ra- 
tional curiosity, free from that silly inquisitiveness which 
marks rustic ignorance or boorish importunity for what is 
new or strange. 


Where stood the agedOLiAMHAx's hallowed shed. — P. 8. 

The Ollamhans, chief bards, or historiographers, or. 
as Martin calls them, Isdane, 6t orators, were> he says, 
" in high esteem both in these islands and the contin- 
" ent ;" (meaning the main land of the western coast) 
" until these forty years" i. e. about the middle of the 


Seventeenth century, " they sat always among the noble9 
fi and chiefs of families in the Streak or circle. Their 
(t houses and little villages were sanctuaries as well as 
fe churches, and they took place before doctors of physic, 
u The oi£tors," (or Isdane) after the Druids were extinct, 
ff were brought in to preserve the genealogy of families, 
*' and to repeat the same at every succession of a chief, 
m < they made epithalamiums and panegyrics, which the 
* € poet or bard pronounced." Descrfp. West. Isl. Scot. 
p. 115. " Of what consideration the old Bards were 
~" in the northern parts of Britain," says the Arch-Deacon 
of Carlisle, " the reader will best learn from the eloquent 
€€ pen of one of the most famous humanists in Scotland," 
meaning J. Johnston, author of the " Scottish Heroes," 
whom he quotes in the original, (vide Nicolson's Scot. 
Hist. Lib. chap. ii. et Johnst, ad Her. Scot, in prefat.) 
The celebrated Duan, or poem m the Gaelic language, 
preserved since the coronation of Malcolm III. (Mac-* 
ieth's successor) A . D. 1050, which is said to have been 
Composed by that monarch's lard or poet-laureat, is a 
*tril£ing proof of the high estimation that order was held 
Hi by our Scottish ancestors (vide Pinkerton's Enquiry, 
^ol. II. p. 321 .) In this singular curiosity of antiquity, 
3ie royal bard traces the ancestors of Malcolm (Cean? 
*n&re 9 Great-head) up to Albanus the supposititious pos- 
sessor of the crown of Alia or Scotland. (C A great many 
* € genealogies" says Nicolson, " and pedigrees of the 
z < Scottish kings have been drawn up ; among which the 
r < most famous (and most common in the libraries of 
cc great men) is that which was composed by a highland- 
c * er of quality, and repeated to Alexander III. ?tt his 

L 3 


** coronation, (A. D. 1249) reckoning the ancestors of 
" that king and his predecessors ad parentem usq. gentis 
*< Gathelum." (Scot. Hist. Lib. p. 139.) It should 
seem, however* that the honourable distinction bards held 
at court* and among the great* declined apace; their name 
at length became a term of reproach* and the order treated 
not only with contempt* but actually classed with the 
very dregs of society. Thus* for instance* the old Cor-? 
nish word lardh, a mimic or, jester* or poet* (Welch) and 
bard (Gaelic alhanach) lardas, (Gaelic* eirinach) a lam* 
poon or satire* — shews that the fraternity of bards fell 
latterly into disgrace; and accordingly we fintf them in our 
oldacts of Parliament classed as out-laws. "Justice should 
* c be done upon maisterfull beggars, and sorners* as vp- 
* € on thejfes or reavers ; fein?ed fools* lairdes, or rinners 
* c about* at last* after sundrie punishments* may be hang- 
" ed." Jac. II. Pari. 6. c. 22. Jac. II. Pari, 11. c. 45. 
Jac. III. Pari. 10. c. 77. " To our fathers time*" says a 
writer of the seventeenth century* " and ours* something 
" remained* and still does* of this ancient order. And 
f c they are called by others* and by themselves* jockies* 
* ' who go about begging, and use still to recite their slugr 
« gornes of most of the true ancient surnames of Scotland* 
« from old experience and observation. Some of them 
« I have discoursed* and foun(J to have reason and dis- 
" cretion. One of them told me there were now twelve 
" of them in the whole isle ; but he remembered when 
*' they abounded* so as at one time he was one of five 
i' that usually met at St Andrews/' Fide Martin's State; 
tf tl}e See of gt Andrews* sect, 1. p. 3. 



Save heath-spread ridges in some moss-clad mound. — P. 8. 

It is the nature of some soils, when allowed to remain 
untitled for any length of time, to assume their original 
vegetation ; hence we find that plats of heath -land, which 
had been cultivated with care, when suffered to lie in a 
lea state, are soon covered again with heather. It is ob- 
servable in many parts of the highest inhabited districts, 
that ridges covered - in this way can be distinctly traced 
near the summit of many of our most elevated mountains. 
Some suppose that such appearances of culture are re- 
ferable to remote times, when, by reason of the valleys 
being overgrown with wood, which were the haunts of 
wolves, bears, and enormous snakes, made it necessary 
for safety to retire to the tops of the hills, and there cul- 
tivate those spots, which retain still the appearance of 
human industry. This conjecture, however plausible it 
may seem, is liable to many objections. 


The Gael 1$ thence outcast as poor exiles.— P. 9, 

Before the late alarming emigrations took place from 
the Grampians and Western islands, the population of 
those districts was estimated at two hundred thousand : 
one fourth of which number were supposed capable of 
bearing arms, or entering the navy as able-bodied sea- 
men. Now, is it a matter of small consideration to a 
state, to be deprived of the aid of so considerable a portion 
of the community, in times of an indispensible war, or of 
threatened invasion ? But this is not the only matter an 
able Government and prudent Legislature are to keep 


steadily an eye on : for the loss, for ever, of the .inge-r 
nuity and industry of those who are ready to leave their 
mother-country through disgust, on the one hand, or 
allurements on the other, is that vital wound which is 
most to be dreaded : and, if a remedy be not speedily 
found out, and applied with skill and promptitude, must 
eventually prove fatal to the public weal. 


To ancient usage, privilege, or right. — -P. 1 1 . 

The ancient usage, privilege, or right, of the Gael, 
which, simply considered, amounts to neither more nor 
less than inheriting, as they were wont time immemorial, 
their Duas, Duchas, or hereditary possessions in the or- 
der already specified, according to their proximity to the 
Chief, of whom the chieftains, heads of families, or prin- 
cipal tacksmen, sub-tenants, viz. small farmers, crofters, 
and cottars, held their lands and places of abode. The 
chieftains and principal tacksmen were in the rank of 
gentlemen. The sub-tenants, or small farmers, were 
half-gentlemen, (a term very well understood among the 
higher classes), the crofters and cottars, were what are 
called, by way of distinction, commoners, (another term 
very well understood among the highland noblesse) on 
whom devolved the lower employments of the field, fold, 
par, &c. Some of the chieftains who had not been pro- 
vided with free possessions from their chief or common 
progenitor, were tacksmen, and held in lease a pretty 
considerable stretch of country, consisting of infield and 
outfield or arable land, common-moor, and hill-pasture ; 
and those were let in lease again in smaller lots to sub- 


tenants, crofters, and cottagers. The ancient mode of 
computing the value of such possessions, was very simple 
and convenient ; which was either in money, or in grain ; 
in the former case, lands were valued, at pennies, half- 
pennies, farthings, clitings, placks, bodies, &c. ; in thq 
latter case sheaves, half-sheaves, &c. A principal tacks- 
man possessed lands to the value of from twenty to 
forty or more pennies, for which he paid a yearly rent 
during the currency of his tack or lease. Of this exten- 
sive portion of land he sub-set a third part, and some- 
times' two-thirds, to small farmers, crofters, and cottars. 
Each farmer may possess one sheaf, one and a half, or 
two sheaves of valued land, or in Scots money, one far- 
thing, one halfpenny, or one penny, according to the 
specific agreement of parties. A crofter has a small lot 
of arable ground called a craft or croft, on which he has 
* house or hut, a kail-yard, ground for raising as much 
Crop as will keep a cow, which yields him milk and but- 
ter to his meal and potatoes, A cottar has only a cot or 
*hed of the humblest sort, a kail -yard, and a small piece 
of ground for potatoes. This then was the order of the 
Subdivision of land, according to ancient usage, privilege, 
^r right, of the several classes of the inhabitants of the 
Hebrides and Grampian mountains, till within these 
forty or five-and-forty years ;. when those rights were 
"disregarded ; and the dachas of the tacksman which had 
descended from father to son for many generations, as a 
species of patrimony, sacred as the heritage of the pro- 
prietor himself, was entirely abolished. Before this, how- 
ever,, took place, the tacksmen lived comfortably as gen- 
tlemen : the sub-tenants, or farmers, lived decently in 


their huts, grouped, it is true, with but little regard to 
cleanliness, or much comfort, forming, as it were, a com- 
munity, in which their privileges and rights were scru- 
pulously respected and maintained ; and while their live- 
stock grazed in common beyond the head-dykes, and 
through the upland-pastures in summer and autumn, 
their arable lands were divided yearly by lot, as already 
noticed ; and thus the whole demesnes of the chief, or 
common father, was apportioned, according to the rank 
or condition of each individual of the miniature com- 
monwealth ;— a mode the most congenial with the patri- 
archal system ; and the best adapted for a peculiar peo- 
ple, such as the Gael, or inhabitants of the Hebrides and 
Grampian districts. I am perfectly aware that the usage 
or privilege, here alluded to, obtained most likely under 
the feudal system ; and continued till some lime after 
the abolition of hereditary jurisdiction in North Britain, 
which took place in 1748 ; but if the subdivision of land 
thus pointed out, was , found to answer so well under all 
the evils of feudal slavery, and the conflicts of the clans ; 
how much more beneficial would such an arrangement, 
on an improved plan, operate on the rural establishments 
of those regions north of theTweed, which are inaccessible 
in winter, by reason of heavy falls of snow, lying deep in 
the passes; or tempestuous seas, which rage around the 
insular situations, biding defiance to communication till 
the rigour of the season be past; or when occasional frost, 
or calm weather, suffer travellers to proceed to the place 
of their destination. Hence, therefore, the propriety of 
speedily adopting a practicable system, properly adapted 
to the local habits, customs, and manners peculiar to the 
Inhabitants of those cheerless wilds, and remote islands* 



A wretched hovel, share a poor repast.—?. 11. 

It is not easy to conceive the manifold miseries to which 

^A&anyof the ejected inhabitants of the Grampians are ex^ 

P°8cd, when they wander to any of the towns or cities of 

the low country, without any determinate object in view. 

A melancholy instance of the truth of this remark, I had 

to opportunity of witnessing about twenty-two years 

^ce ; the narration of which will suffice to illustrate the 

Passage of the poem with which the present note is con- 

nec ted. It was in the depth of winter (in the year 1781); 

a A^avy fell of snow had lain long on the ground; 

e north wind blew keenly, and chilled one almost to 

^t.h, when Alexander Lawson, a well disposed person 

t V trade a weaver) came to me and requested my charity 

** a poor, destitute family, who had taken shelter in a 

**^tched hovel, a few doors from his workshop. My 

j ^iosity being excited by the description he gave of their 

^plorable condition, I accordingly followed him to the 

^H)t. We descended a few steps into what had once, 

^^rhaps, been a* cellar. A small lamp placed in one cor^ 

**^r of this hole, for it could not be called a habitable 

Mace, gave hardly sufficient light to shew the miserable 

^tate of those persons who had taken shelter in it from the 

**iclemency of the storm. In one row, on a bed of straw 

**iade on the cold damp floor, were laid three men : their 

**nly covering plaids, for they were highlanders, and 

their dissolution seemed fast approaching. A woman, 

apparently past the middle period of life, who supported 

the head of the eldest on her lap, lifted up her eyes, as we 

entered, looked wistfully at us ; and shook her he^aV, but 

173 ■ 

uttered not a word, nor did a sigh escape her. " AU* • 
" good woman," said I, " have you no one to look after 
" you, in this destitute condition ?" — "She can convert 
" in no other save that of her native tongue," said mjT 
conductor ; and I addressed her in that language ; when 
she instantly raised her eyes, in which a faint gleam of 
joy seemed for a moment to sparkle. Laying the head 
of her husband (for such the eldest of the three men was) 
gently down on the straw, she suddenly sprang up, came 
forward, seized me by both hands, cast a look upwards, 
and exclaimed, "O God 1 whom hast Thou sent to com- 
€€ fort us !" Then looking me stedfastly in the face, she 
said, "In this wretched condition you thus see me among 
c strangers* My husband, and these my two sons, are 
' fast hastening to their graves. Nine days and night* 
c have their blood boiled in the malignant illness you 
( now see wasting them : It is now almost three daya 
c since I tasted the last morsel of bread." She then 
turned to her dying family,' wrung her hands, and re- 
mained silent. On turning from this affecting scene, I 
observed a decent old woman coming forward to enquire 
fi* the unhappy sufferers ; and, by the interest she seem- 
ed to take in their welfare, it led me to hope that, through 
her kind assistance, I should be enabled to afford them 
some relief. Having in the mean time ordered them an 
immediate supply of things absolutely necessary, I made 
haste to call in medical assistance ; but, alas ! it was too— ■ 
late ; for the fever had already wasted the living en< 
in them ; and, notwithstanding every possible aid 
could administer under such unfavourable circumstance, .a 
as their cases presented, when I called next morning, "3 


173 . 

°°k*| ^nd the father and his eldest son in the agonies of death. 
All Was silent. In a few minutes, the young man breath- 
ed his last. And now quivering in the pangs of dissolu- 
toonj the old man lay on his back — his eyes fixed — the 
< * ea ^h-film covering them, and the dead-rattle, as it k 
^^d, indicating the near approach of the end of his 
ctl [ t hly troubles. His gaze for a moment seemed to ac- 
quire intelligence, and with a keen, piercing look, pecu- 
* to the dying, he calls to his wife to come close to him, 
*°Q says 2 — €€ Companion of my youth and better days, 
*^ke this clay-cold hand — it is already dead — and I am 
£%t a-going." A few more inarticulate sounds issued 
^***i his livid lips, and he expired. — u Merciful God ! my 
* *Vusband !*— my child too V* exclaimed the distracted 
r^^ther, and sunk on the body of her late partner in misery, 
/^-^ shriek of wo transfixt me, and all the man shook to 
/^^ centre. When I had in some measure recovered 
*Vm the stupor this awful event. had thrown me into, I 
^^.ired* in order to get them decentjy buried. To pro- 
**de for the poor widowed thing and her youngest son, 
^\iose case seemed less malignant, came of course to be 
^^nsidered. The favourable symptoms appearing, and 
^V^e proper means cautiously used, his recovery was soon 
Effected ; which greatly alleviated the grief of his mother, 
^Mio still continued free of infection, and escaped won- 
derfully till every apprehension of danger entirely vanish- 
ed. When a reasonable time had elapsed, I learned 
^he story of this family from the unfortunate widow her* 
^elf, the particulars of which, so far as I recollect, are nearly 
"the following. There was not a happier pair in the whole 
^parish, (which layon the banks of theSpey), than the father 


and mother of this poor family, till, by reason of the in* 
traduction of a new set of tenants from a distant part of 
the country, the small farmers were ejected ; among whom 
were the subjects of this simple narrative. To add to 
their misfortunes, their third son, a lad about fourteen, 
was affected with a white- swelling (as it is called) in his 
knee-joint, which prevented him from walking j and, 
when the family took their departure for the low -country, 
the father and his other two sons were obliged to cany 
this poor lame one on a hand-barrow ; and thus travel- 
led onward till they reached Aberdeen ; where thty got 
him put safely into the hospital of that city : But he 
was soon after dismissed incurable ; and their little all 
being nearly spent, they were at £ loss what next to do 
for subsistence. They were advised to travel to Edin- 
burgh, in order to procure medical assistance for the. lad; 
and get into some way of gaining an holiest livelihood 
somewhere in or near the capital. To £dinbnrghj|ihere- 
fore, they directed their course ; and, after a tedious jour- 
ney of many days, they found themselves within a short 
distance of the city. But, by this time, the little money 
they had saved from the sale of their effects, was gone; 
and they now were reduced to a state of absolute want. 
To beg they were ashamed ; but starve they must, in the 
event they could find no immediate employment. But, 
from humane and charitably disposed persons they at 
last were obliged to implore assistance; and by this means 
they found their way to Edinburgh ; where, soon after, 
the unfortunate lad whom they had carried in the way 
already mentioned from Aberdeen, was admitted a patient 
into the Royal Infirmary. It was now the beginning of 


barrest. The high price of labour in the not th of Eng- 
land, compared with that in the south of Scotland, in- 
duces many of our highlanders to go thither, in or- 
der to earn as much as possibly they can, during the 
season of reaping in that quarter. This poor family, a- 
mong other reapers, travelled southward :— but it was a 
sad journey to them : for being soon seized with fever 
and ague, thus were they at once plunged into the deep- 
est distress,, far from their native home, and without a 
friend in the world to look after them. Not even suf- 
fered to remain any time in one place, they were barba- 
rously hurried from parish to parish, as the custom is, till 
they reached Edinburgh, where being safely placed in the 
hospital, they soon recovered. But, on making enquiry 
after the lad left behind when they went to England, 
, they were informed of his death, which happened a few 
days before their admission into the Infirmary. They 
nowwere dismissed cured ; — but, where to take shelter 
they knew not ! for they had not a soul in, the city to 
assist them in the smallest matter. Feeble, tottering, 
and faint with hunger, they wandered about, the streets 
tmtil the evening, when they crept into that wretched ho- 
tel, in which I found them, as already stated* 

"Those Trans-Atlantic schemes of which you hear. — P. 18. 

It is matter of infinite regret, that those representations 
respecting the easy purchase of lands in North America, 
have seduced many, (particularly those who felt the evils 
+£ rack-rent from year to year press on them with accu- 


inuUtdd hardships), to leave their native country, ifl 
order to become proprietors in a corner of the United 
States, where taxes are next to nothing; and where 
tithes were never heard of; and, above all, where civil 
and religions liberty are unbounded ; and where every man 
may sit under his own fig-tree, and do " whatsoever 
tc seemeth good in his own eyes :" — but let it also be. 
remembered, that America, with all those allurements, 
is not the place for an emigrant to live in without money ^ 
—certainly not: and this cannot be better illustratec^- 
than by the following extract from a small pamphlet^^ 
which now lies before me, printed at Glasgow abou^-* 
thirty years since, entitled, " Information to Emigrants ^ 
(S being a copy of a letter from a Gentleman in North 
fc America; containing a full account of the terms on 
" which settl&rs may procure lands/' &c. &c. After 
enumerating the terms distinctly, which, by the way, 
are extremely tempting, the author of this tract adds : " It 
€€ is conceived that these terms will suit many farmers in 
€S England, Scotland, and Ireland, who live at rack-rent/ 
(C and have some small property to lay out for better esta- 
" blishments than they now have in Europe. The Eu- 
(( ropean emigrants in America have heretofow general- 
€€ ly been very poor persons, who being utterly destitute^a 
<c were exposed to insuperable difficulties ; for tbougfe-" 
*t this is allowed to be the best poor man's country in tl«E 
€€ world, it has very little the advantage of others to sucBR: 
" as are so necessitous as to depend upon mere charity. 
cc It is to farmers of estates from lbol. to300l. that tlmi* 
€ * is a situation superior to other countries : these are able 



to purchase much for a little, but none can expect to 
<c We the lands given to them for nothing/* 


All interests are subservient to the state. — P. 14. 


The ties of mutual interest all must hind.— lb, 


To all belong the produce of our towf.— lb. 
In a wordy these political sentiments appear to me to 
*** self-evident propositions, or axioms which form the 
pasis of sound policy and good government. Wherefore, 
^dividual interest ought hot to injure the public weal : 
**°* must the welfare of the community at large militate 
*S*irist the rights of any one of its members, so long as 
****t individual Supports to the best of his ability that 
f^te to which he belongs, in the due administration of 
Justice. Hence, whosoever is guilty of private oppres- 
8 *°t*, is amenable to that whole or state which protects 
****** in the comfortable enjoyment of his property : and 
48 the whole Is equal to all its parts taken collectively ; 
^hich is not only true in the abstract, but likewise holds 
5 c H> every well-regulated society, more especially 
^Here civilization verges toward refinement; and where 
^SHculture, trade, and commerce, art 5 and science, mu- 
***ally depend on each other for their existence, energy, 
^*d flourishing condition : hence, therefore, when ex- 
^diency requires the interference of the Legislature in 
r ***ttters of private grievance, it is justifiable on the sound- 


est principles of justice, to rectify whatever may wear 
an aspect inimical to the interests of the state. 


Should plunge them into dkesteem.~P. \b. . 

The poor industrious deem nothing more formidable 
than that contempt which poverty hurries a person in- 
to, who once was esteemed for honesty, and punctual 
attention in all his dealings. And if this principle be 
not refined or exalted ; yet it is one of a very power- 
ful nature, and spurs on to exertion, when others of the 
active feelings of the human mind are languid, or difficult 
to be roused into action. But when a virtuous indivi~ 
dual finds his utmost diligence and prudence prove fruit" 
less or unsuccessful ; what then is left, save hope, to 

render existence even supportable ? Emigration present^ 


To let his land at rack-rent* } s utmost stretch. — P. 15. 

The barefaced encouragement given to secret offers fo^ 
leases, (witness the advertisements for letting farms * 
that daily appear in the newspapers), is beyond all th^ 
calculations of our forefathers in the progress of corrup — " 
tion ; to say nothing of the evils of rack-rent, which c^ 
itself is a refinement in political economy, or rather a cai»-- 
ker-worrti that has wrought into the very vitals of agri- - 
culture, the living energy of alt industry ; of consequence 
the real wealth, and welfare of the nation. 

Whm stores in common shall your wants supply.— P, 1l5~ 
See note 5. book sixth. 




A kindred people, Celtce, Clio stiles. — P. 16. 
That the Welsh, the inhabitants of the Isle of Man, 
Ireland, the Hebrides, and Grampian mountains, are 
scendants of the ancient Celts, who had emigrated 
>m time to time from the continent of Europe; is agreed 
all our best historians and antiquaries. 


Eve's dew-drops low its head, &c— P. 10. 

The Gaelic reader is here presented with the original, 
f which I have attempted a translation in English heroic 
frse. It is one of the few fragments of Ossian that- 
ars every internal evidence of an original, which it is 
vain to expect a modern composition in the Gaelic 
tguage to equal ; and I will frankly own, thfct I had 
£*y scruples to conquer before I finally resolved to let 
- paraphrase remain which appears in the present poena. 


Se guth anma mo ruin at* ann! 
u 9 s animic gu aisling Mal-mhine thu* 
u Fosglaibh Talla na 'n speur, 
" Athraichidh Tkoscair na'n cruaidh bheum ; 
* ( Fosglaibh dorsaidh, na'n nial, 
€i Ta ceimine Mal-mhine gu dian. 
€C Chualas guth am aisling fein, 
* c Tajbram mho chleilh gu h ard ; 

M 2 

" Cuim thainig an osag am* dhiadh, 

Ci dhulh-skuibkal na linn ud thall t 

€C Bha do sciathfkuaimneach an gallon an aonulch } 

" Shiubhail aisling Mal-rnhine gu dian : 

" Ach chunairc i a Run ag aomadh, 

" 'Sa cheo-earradh ag taomadh mu chltalh t 

€C Bha dearsa na Greine air thaolk ris, 

l€ Co boisceil re or na 9 n daoi. 

" Is eguth anma mo Ruin at 9 ann ! 

(( 's ainmicgu m* aisling fein thu. 

€C Is comhnuidk dhuit anam Mal-mhirit, 
' (C A mhic Oisein a's treine lamh, 
C€ Eirigh m* osna mar re dearsa o'n Ear, 
" Thaom mo dheoir am measg sileadh na h oiche* 

f( Bhu gkattan aluinn a d'fhianais mi Oscair, 
<c he m' uile gheugaibh uaine am 9 thimchioll; 
t€ Ach thainig do bhas-sa mar osaig 
" 9 nfhasach, is dh'aom mi sios : 
" Thainig Earrach le sileadh nan speur, 
" Ach ni 'n d 9 eirich duilV uaine dhamhfein. 

€€ Churmre oighe mi gu samhach son talla, 
ef Is Ikuail iad clairseach na'mfonn : 
" Bha deoir ag taomadh le gruaidhin Mal-mhine } 
u Chunairc oigh mi '$ mo t/iura gu trom. 

€€ Cuim am lhe\l thu co tuirseach amfhianais} 
" A chaomh ainnir aig Luatha' mCnfruih / 


* c An rdbh e sgiamJiach mar dkearsa na Greine; 
%i Am hi co thlachd-mhor a shiulhaVs a ckruth $ 

" 'S taitneach tfhmn an cluais Oisein, 
u A Nighean Luatha na'nfruth dian ; 
" Thainig guth na'm Bard nach leo 
" Am measg t aisling air aomadh na'n sliabh ; 
t( 'Nuair tkuit codal air do shuililh soirbhe 
u Air cluain Mor-shruth na'n iomajuaim. 
cc 'Nuair phill thuflaih'ail o'n t seilg, 
u Is grian lo ag scartha' na leirm.' 
" Chualadh tuguth na'm Bard nach leo y 
€ * Is glanfaiteal cheoiljein. 

" Is caoinfaiteal na'mfonn, a Mat-mhtne, 
€( Ach claoidhidh tad anam gu deoir : 
c < Tha solas ann tuireadh le sith, 
€€ 'Nuair dh'aomas clialh tuirse gu Iron* 
€X Claoidhidh fad thuirse siol do'ruinn, 
<€ A thla nighean Thoscair na'n cruaidh Ihenm ; 
€C Is ainmic an laethe o'n neoil : 
t( Tuitidh tad mar chuiseigfoi 'n Ghrein, 
" 'Nuair sheallas e sios na shoilse, 
" An diaidh d' an dulh cheathaich siubhal d $ an lheinn y 
" 'S a throm cheannfoi shileadh na h oi'che. 

luted with tyrannic sway the Grampian hills.— P. 19. 
My utmost diligence of research has not been success- 
lj in order to ascertain with any tolerable degree of pre* 

M 3 


clsion, the exact period when the Feudal System was en 
grafted on thatt>f the Patriarchal amongst the .Gad of 
the Grampians and Western Islands. Prior tothereiga 
of Malcolm III., every thing respecting Scottish history 
geems strangely enveloped in impenetrable obscurity. All 
we know with certainty, is> that when Macbeth as- 
sassinated E)uncan the son of Beatrice and Malcolm 
M f Kenneth, second of that name (A. D. 1039.) the 
two sons of the murdered king, Malcolm and Donald, 
the former surnamed Cean-more, or great-head, and the 
latter, Bene, or fair, both fled in opposite directions: 
Malcolm the eldest sought refuge in Cumberland ; dnd 
Donald the younger passed over to the Hebrides, where 
he was gladly received by the islanders, and there re- 
mained till his brother died. Meanwhile Siward, earl 
of Northumberland, placed his grandson Malcolin, the 
Scottish prince, under the protection of Edward the Con- 
fessor, at whose court he remained, till Macduff thane 
of Fife, headed a formidable faction in favour of the exiled 
Malcolm, in order to expel the usurper, and restore the 
lawful heir to the throne of his ancestors. The Scots, 
aided by the Northumbrians, led on by Malcolm in per- 
son, pursued the regicide Macbeth, and soon completed 
his destruction. After the usurper was slain, Malcolm 
was crowned at Scone on the 25th April 1057. And as 
he resided so long in England, and afterward married 
Margaret the grand-niece of Edward, (and sister pf Edgar 
^Ethcling, heir of the Saxon line of English monarchs, 
who fled for protection to the Scottish court, when Wil- 
liam duke of Normandy usurped, or rather seized in right 
.pf conquest, the throne) — hence it is reasonable to $uf - 


ose that Malcolm must have imbibed strong prejudices 
1 favour of English, manners, laws, customs, and usages; 
snsequently a gradual change took place in the eastern 
)ast with regard to the arrangement of property, and 
>read by degrees westward to the foot of the Grampians, 
lence into the fastnesses, and at length to the shores 
'the Atlantic, The western islands, however, were as 
;t independent of the main land, or Scotland properly 
► called, and were nominally in subjection to the sove<- 
igns of Norway. On the death of king Malcolm, (who 
as slain near Alnwick castle*, where also his eldest son 
dward died of his wounds two days thereafter; aod 
e pious Margaret, who lay stretched on her death-bed, 
ily survived to learn the death of her beloved son and 
yal consort) Donald Bane landed from the Hebrides, 
id usurped the dignities of the Scottish crown. But 
uncan, a natural son of the late king, expelled the 
urper, and reigned in his stead. Duncan, however, 
is murdered, and Donald once more ascended the 
rone. But he was again expelled by the uncle of the 
#ful heir, who placed Edgar on the throne, made Do- 
ld captive, condemned him to captivity for life, and, 
r a refinement in cruelty, peculiar to the tiupes, put out 
3 eyes, and left him to languish in a dungeon. After 
is, the intercourse of the two kingdoms of South and 
orth Britain was friendly and lasting. And the inter- 
arriages of the princes and nobility of either realm* 
ened an easy way for the establishment of Anglo- 
xon and Norman adventurers north of the Tweed. 
2nce the gradual change with respect to system. And 
lat accelerated the introduction of it into the Gran*-? 

• Nov. 13. 1093. 


pians, was Ae progress of religious houses, whi^h, \fl 
acquiring grants of lands from pious individuals, as weH 
as from the Crown, were anxious to have their newly 
acquired property well secured ; and, for this purpose, it 
was necessary to have documents for their rights ; hence 
the; origin of charters and written grants of landed proper- 
ty. And the oldest writings now extant, (copies of which 
are to be found in Anderson's Diplomata), are of the age 
of Duncan, the bastard son of Malcolm III., who made 
a grant of lands to the monks of Durham (vide Diplo- 
mata, N. y.) By this time, (A. D. 10Q5.) religious e- 
stablish.ments had made considerable progress in Scot- 
land. It is a remarkable historical fact, and worthy of 
particular notice, which Lord Hailes intentions on the/ 
authority of Turgot, who wrote the life of Queen Marga- 
ret, that the Scottish ecclesiastics did not seem to under- 
stand the Saxon tongue at the peripd alluded to ; but in 
order to illustrate this, I shall quote the wor4s of Lord 
Hailes for the reader's satisfaction, " For. the.rejbnna- 
€ . c tion, of certain erroneous practices which prevailed in 
€i the Scottish church, Margaret held frequent confcr- 
" ence$ with the clergy. The king understood the Gaelic 
" language as well as the Saxon. He willingly perform- 
€€ : ed the office of interpreter between his consort and the 
*' Scottish ecclesiastics/' (Vide Aim. Scot. Malcolm 
III.) This historical passage puts us in possession of 
two very curious facts : 1 . That the religious, establish- 
ments, prior to" this peripd, stood greatly in need of re- 
formation. 2. That the ecclesiastics understood not the 
Saxon; consequently, were unacquainted with the Scoto- 
' Saxon (a kindred dialect) if it then existed : and that 
the Gaelic, or Irish, was the court, and most likely the 



prevailing language toward' the close" of the eleventh 
century. In confirmation of the Gaelic being long 
after the prevailing language, we find the bishoprics of the 
Isles, Argyle, Dunjblane, Dunkeld, Brechin, Aberdeen, 
Moray, Ross, and Caithness, which are either wholly 
situated within the confines of the Grampians, or extend 
considerably within the boundaries, were the most con- 
siderable sees in the northern section of Great Britain, 
(St Andrews and Glasgow excepted). And we also find 
many religious houses established among the Grampians 
and Western isles at a very remote period of our authen- 
tic history : for instance the monastery of Loch-Tay in 
Perthshire, founded in A. D. 1122. OfSadeal, in Kin- 
tyre, Argyleshire, founded in 1164. The Abbey of 
Beaulieu, in Ross-shire, founded in 1230. The monas- 
tery of Ardchattan in Lorn, Argyleshire, founded in 1 230. 
The convent of Dominicans .in Inverness, founded u 
1233. The abbey of Feme, in Ross-shire, founded in 
the reign of Alexander II. (about the middle of the thir- 
teenth century.) Of the monastery of Dornoch in Su- 
therland-Shire, founded in 1271. Of Strathfillan, in 
Breadalbane, Perthshire, founded by Robert the Bruce 
after the battle of Bannockburn (A. D. 1314.) and other 
religious houses of lesser note, which were established a- 
mong the Grampian mountains, demonstrate, in the most 
satisfactory manner, what power the clergy must have 
had in those interior regions in very remote ages. And 
being ever attentive to their own interests* they did not. 
fail to reap every advantage which hope, fear, credulity, 
and good nature, threw in their way, with respect to dona* 
lions. Hence, we find their cartularies full of grants o& 


lands and moveables. Their encroachments on the liberty 
jmd property of the laity at length grew to so alarming 
a pitch, as led to a mode of securing the moveables, and 
landed patrimony of the nobles, against the rapacity of 
the ecclesiastics ; and this was by following the wise ex- 
ample of the clergy themselves, in obtaining charterer 
from the king ; by which means their lands were thus 
secured to them and their successors. Hence, the origin 
of feudal charters north of the Tweed ; which together 
with the title Earl (which succeeded to that of Thane} 
Baron, Knight, and Esquire, and all the train of vassal- 
age and chivalry, fn times less remote. Of the secular 
charters of royal grants, that of Alano de Lani, (whose 
lands lay near Callander in Monteith, Perthshire) is one 
of the oldest extant : it was granted by Alexander II. in 
1227. (See a copy in Appendix fourth, N. 2. Hailes's 
Annals, Vol. III. 8vo. edit.) And by looking intoNis- 
bet's Heraldry, Douglas's Peerage, Lord Kaimes's British 
Antiquities, and above all, the writings of the late Lord 
Hailes, particularly that tract entitled, " The Additional 
#c Case of Elizabeth, claiming the title and dignity of the 
€C Countess of Sutherland by her Guardians,** much cu- 
rious and useful information may be gleaned with respect 
to the history of the feudal system, north of the Tweed. 
€€ I am of opinion," says Lord Hailes, " that the feudafc 
** law was gradually introduced into Scotland, not by the 
€C authority of any one monarch, or in the course of & 
" single reign, but by the silent operation of the fea» 
i* and prejudices of men concurring with the accidental 
** state of the kingdom." And, by examining the his- 
tory of the northern section of our island, it would ap+ 


pear that our nobles, In process of time, became toe 
powerful for the sway of our very limited monarchy; for 
bur Scottish kings were in truth no more than the mere 
chiefs of a number of very turbulent chieftains,, as the fol- 
lowing historical incident will serve to illustrate. ( € Dur- 
fc ing one of the truces/' says the venerable historian of 
Scotland, " between the two nations, occasioned rather 
%i by their being weary of war than desirous of pe^ce ; 
" Robert (Bruce) formed a scheme for checking the 
st growing power and wealth of the nobles. He sum-* 
tc moned them to appear, and to shew by what right 
t( they held their lands. They assembled accordingly, 
€i and the question being put, they started up at once, 
" and drew their swords :r— " By these,*' said they, €€ we 
" acquired our lands, and by these we A defend them." 
<t — The king, intimidated by their boldness, prudently 
" dropped the project. But so deeply did they resent 
, " this attack upon their order, that, notwithstanding 
*' Robert's popular and splendid virtues, it occasioned a 
" dangerous conspiracy against his life." Robertson's 
Hist of Scot, Book First. 

jind thrice were vanquish' d by tlteir kindred foes. — P. SO* 

These verses allude to the three fruitless attempts in 
which the Gael were deeply engaged, to restore the exiled 
royal family of Stuart to the throne of their ancestors* 

Worthy a hero 9 s garland or his grave. — P. 20. 

Th$ destruction of the Clans was long a favourite spe* 


filiation of the firm supporters of ttie house of Brunswick. 
And by the intrigues of some of the chieftains themselves, 
the Gael were greatly disgusted, and in continual appre- 
hension of the annihilation of their power and people ; — 
hence their spirit of revolt, which was powerfully excited 
when their proffers of obedience, and attachment to 
George I. were seemingly neglected. The following 
letter, (the original of which lies before me) from the Earl 
ofMartoM'Donellof Keppoch (my son-in-law's great- 
grandfather) will illustrate this remarkable fact, for which 
reason it is thus inserted at full length for the satisfaction 
of the reader. 

" Sir, Whitehall, October 7th, 1714. 

" The letter from you and the other gentlemen of the 
* c highlands, with their assurances to the king, came to 
*•' my hand the first of this moneth, and the first oppor- 
*< tunity I could find, I waited on his Majesty and laid it 
" before him. The king was very well pleased with the 
" duty you show in it to his person and government. I 
" hope it has taken off any bad impression that was given 
"him of you, and you will fir/d that he will give his pro- 
" tection to all his subjects who carry dutifully to him, 
(C and keep them from being opprest by any under what 
" pretext soever. 

" I make no doubt but you will all make a dutiful ad* 
cc dress to his Majesty, to confirme the assurances of your 
ee loyalty to him, which you have given in your letter. 
i( I am very much obliged to you for the confidence you 
" are pleased to put in me, and as I have ever endeavpur'd 
** to serve all my neighbours of the highlands in general* 



<f whenever it lay in my power, so I do assure you I shall 
make it my business to deserve the trust you put ill ihe. 
By the duty you have upon this occasion shown to the 
u king> and your confirming it by the loyal address I 
u presume you will immediately make to his Majesty, I 
u hope you will procure protection to yourselves against 
* any who may have designs against you, &nd quiet and 
€t peace to your country. — lam, Sir, your most obedient 
u humble servant, Mar. 


The " Dutiful Address to his Majesty," alluded to in 
this letter, was made; but a great personage, and highland 
Chief too, took good care it should never meet the eye of 
^Majesty. The particulars of this' intrigue are already be- 
fore the public. And, what is not a little remarkable, 
the writer of this letter was the very person who headed 
the insurrection which broke out in the year following* 
But the contest was soon decided ; for, on the of No- 
vember 1715, when the forces assembled under the com- 
mand of the earl of Mar, and the" army of the elector of 
Hanover, then on the British throne, led on by the duke 
of Argyle, met near Dumblaneon an extensive heath cal- 
led Sheriff -Muir, where they fought most bloodily, bbth 
sides claiming the victory, when, in truth, victory had not 
deigned to visit the field that day ! But the Clans were 
discomfited, and their leaders suffered all the consequen- 
ces of defeat and proscription. It will be seen, by the, 
t€ private correspondence of Dr Francis Atterbury, bishop 
€€ of Rochester and his friends, in 1725," edited by the 
late Lord Hailes, and printed in the year 1768, that thfe 
exiled chieftains never lost sight of their interests with re- 


qjfect to their territories and followers. And tjieir feai% 
it should seem, were wrought upon by the exiled kingj 
as one of the sure means of stimulating them to rise and 
save their ancient race from annihilation. " By the ac- 
€€ counts I have received since I wrote you on the 29th of 
€c May," (1725) says Jambs, " I perceive the situation 
* c of my brave Highlanders to be very different from what 
€c I apprehended it, since it appears the design ;not 
€C only to disarm them, but to extirpate the whole race. 
* c This is what I am sure none of them will ever submit 
g€ to without resistance, either those in the place, or you 
te on this side of the sea." But it was not till twenty 
years after that this bold experiment was put to the test j 
and the civil commotion's of the years 1745 and 1746, 
but too fully displayed the intentions of both parties. The 
horrors of war were, by a certain duke, carried into the 
bosom of the Grampians, with 60 sanguinary an aspect, 
as to threaten extermination in the literal sense of the 
word. It were unnecessary as ungracious to dwell on the 
disarming of the inhabitants of the highlands and west- 
ern isles. It was deemed expedient, and they quietly 
submitted. But it was left for that luminary in the po- 
litical world, the late Lord Chatham, to conciliate the 
regards of the chieftains and their followers ; and to enlist 
them at once on the side of government, and give foil 
play to their courage in the field, and talents in every de- 
partment of art and science, 

In arts refin'd and sciences profound. — P. 21. 

Without reference to any remote period of Scottish 


history, many illustrious persons might be mentioned^ 
Natives of the Grampians and Western isles, who have 
flourished in public life, eminently distinguished for ta- 
fents and virtue* 

**' Yes, there are such* And full on thee, Argile, 

^ f Her hope, her stay, her darling, and her boast, 

*" From her first patriots and her heroes sprung, 

<x Thy fond imploring country turns her eyes ; 

<f In thee, with all a mother's triumph,* sees 

u Her every virtue, every grace combin'd, 

u Her genius, wisdom, her engaging turn, 

Cc Her pride of honour, and her courage tried, 

€c Calm and intrepid, in the very throat 

* c Of sulphurous war, on Tenier's dreadful field. 

* c iSlor less the palm of peace inwreathes thy brow : 

* € For powerful as thy sword, from thy rich tongue 

*' Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate ; 

** While mix'd in thee, combine the charm of youth^ 

** The force of manhood, and the depth of age. 

*' Thee Forbes too, whom every worth attends, 

** As truth sincere, as weeping friendship kind, 

*' Thee, truly generous, and in silence great, 

" Thy country feels thro' her reviving arts, 

* Plan'd by thy wisdom, by thy soul informed ; 

" And seldom has she known a friend like thee." 


Thus the inimitable bard of the Seasons celebrates two 
<*f the « children of the Gael," who were at once power- 
ful chiefs, and men eminently great on the grand theatre 
%f public affairs. Maclaurin, the friend of our immor- 


■ i 

til Newton, is another of those illustrious characters of 
whom honourable mention might be made, was a native 
of Argyleshire. (The learned reader is referred to Mac- 
laurin's e€ Account of Sir Isaac Newton's Discoveries," 
second edition, printed in the year 1750.) On looking 
into the army or navy list, it will be seen what a prodi- 
gious number of the Gael are high in rank in those depart- 
ments of the state. And, were delicacy to admit of per- 
sonal panegyric, some but lately departed, and not a few 
now living, might, from an abler pen, receive it as justly 
due to their talents and virtues. Amongst the former, 
the two M'Phcrsons stand eminently conspicuous, parti- 
cularly the translator of the poems of Ossian. Amongst 
the latter, Doctors Fergusson, Bisset, and Buchanan ; 
the Honourable Archibald McDonald, Sir William Grant, 
Messrs Garrow, Macintosh, M'Leod, M'Arthur, M'Pher- 
son, M'Farlane, and many more highly distinguished, at 
the bar, in the senate, and in the various walks of elegant 
and useful knowledge, which might do honour to any age 
or country, who drew their first breath in the midst of 
the bleak mountains of the North, or Western Islands. 







rre sure than sped the stalker's deadly aim. — P; 26* 

ie deer-stalker is now a character but little known on 
xrampians. I well remember, when a lad, the great 
ure I felt on being permitted to accompany the stal- 
i his secret expeditions to the forest of Glenartney, 
hshire) then in the possession of the late General 
am, who himself was h keen sportsman. When I 
d the stalker's consent, we generally set out a little 
e dusk, and hovered at a distance from the forest, 
ving the exact spot on which the deer lay down for 
e. After it was dark, we stole softly as near them as 
ble, and lay on our arms all night without uttering 
rd. Just as the day dawned, we could distinctly 
ive them rise and stretch their limbs, which was 
ignal for us to take aim j and we* rarely failed in 
;ing down the best hart of the whole herd ; which 
wefully hid> and returned to rest, till the afternoon $ 
,with proper assistance, we brought home our booty, 
feasted on venison while it lasted. 



He waked the slumbering echoes of each hilL— P. 26. 

This alludes to the well-known circumstance of the 
extreme insensibility to danger in spring-tune of the 
heath-cock, when under the influence of that irresistible j 
instinctive desire for the company of his mate ; which I 
have heard him express with a voice impassioned, pecu- 
liar to the season immediately preceding that of incuba- 
tion. It is one of the mischeivous practices of the pre- 
sent race of shepherds to take advantage of the inattention 
to safety of this bird, to shoot him : hence, this is one 
of the principaj causes of the scarcity of grouse in the 
proper season. Moor-burn is another; and .the most wan- 
ton, and wicked of all, is that of killing the hoi during 
incubation, breaking her eggs, and destroying her nest. 
Sheep, too, are great enemies to heath-game, which is 
seldom abundant, where sheep are in any considerable 


Relies on sound advice— -forthwith defjarts. — P* 29. 

The turn for litigation which the Gael have taken since 
the introduction of the sheep-store system, is truly asto- 
nishing. And the practitioners of the la w, more especial- 
ly writers (attornies) are daily increasing in number, and 
of these many are natives of the Grampians, who, on 
. their return from Edinburgh, at the close of a summer- 
session, generally spend some months amongst their 
friends at home ; during which time they are not entire- 
ly idle, for many a case is submitted to their superior 
judgment ; and they fail not to give such sound advice, 
#s shall ultimately prove lucrative in a Cause which they 



' graciously undertake to manage : thus the advice asked, 
and given, proves, not unfrequently, the source of gain on 
the one hand,, and of eventual loss, nay, for the most 
part, certain ruin on the other ; unless indeed some lucky 
hit happens to turn the balance, and make it rest steadily 
on the side of justice* 

The yearly journey ye were wont to take.* — P. 30. 
The ancient mode of rural economy with respect to the 
Subdivision of in-field, ont-jield, and hill-pasture, has 
already been stated. Some time in May, cattle of eve- 
ry description were wont to be collected, and conveyed 
from the lower to the higher ranges of pasture, where they 
were kept during the remainder of summer, and most 
♦part of autumn. The charms of novelty gave peculiar 
delight to the upland occupations of the months that 
were spent among the mountains, the return from which 
had also its peculiar pleasures ; and these are so happily 
expressed in the elegant numbers of a sister-poet, that I 
> feel an irresistible desire of gratifying the reader with the 
following quotation, descriptive of the circumstances al- 
luded to. 


€C When round the lonely hamlet's green domain, 
fC The grass in fresh luxuriance springs again \ 
*' When flowery herbage richly clothes the mead, 
€€ And corn shot up, supplies the past'ral reed ; 
*« Then from the Summersheals their course they bend, 
~*< And with reluctant leisure slow descend. 


Cf How cheap the pleasures of the simple mind ! 
u Unknown to joys that fashion calls refin'd : 
€€ What fine, what slender, and unconscious ties, 
€€ To hold the kind ingenuous heart, suffice. 
" The wide, wild haunts, where nature lonely reigns* 
*.* Unwilling they forsake, to seek the plains ; 
" Yet when they see the dear familiar spot, 
cc Where each descries his lov'd, his native cot, 
" Well pleas'd they hail the Genius of the plain, 
" And joy to meet their household-gods again : 
" Though penury and ceaseless toil await* 
€€ They resolutely brave the storms of fate, 
€€ And see fair Hope's eternal lamp display 
" The gloomy path that leads to endless day." 

Mrs Grant's Poems, p. 50. 



Where lonely lothans stud the lively green* — P. 30. 

The verdant spots interspersed among the hills, were 
generally chosen for erecting the huts booths, or lothanson. 
And such a narrow green plat is called airidh, summer- 
sheal, or shieling. 


Is seen the crested cappercailzie rare. — P. 32. 
The capul-coille (cappercailzie) or cock of the wood, a 
species of grouse, was once found in abundance among 
the Grampians, but has entirely disappeared within these 
forty years. The last capul-coille seen in these parts, 
was that in a*pine forest part of the property of Chisholme 
of that ilk, on the Spey, Inverness-shire, the two legs 
•f which were given to our late professor (for alas ! he is 



*o more! haying died a few days since) of natural history 
^r Walker, in whose collection they will be found. Thi9 
W*d,-it is believed, was that mentioned by Mr Pennant 
lrx his British Zoology, (I. 199.) and also by Mr Daniel 
(Part II. ii. 137.) in his Rural Sports. " From Moscow 
' and Petersburgh, ,> says this reverend Author, " they 
• % (the wood-grouse or cappercailzie) are sent during the 
cold season as presents to London, their flesh being 
esteemed a delicacy at our sumptuous tables ; and for 
the most part they arrive in good condition.' ' They 
* r fc nearly the size and weight of a middling turkey, and 
**fcquently weigh from twelve to sixteen pounds. They 
**^ve now, I am told, become extinct in Ireland, and also 
*** Wales. A clergyman of Edinburgh, I am informed, 
^ho spent some years in Scandinavia, is well acquainted 
'with this species of game, and shot many during his re- 
sidence in the north of Europe. I observe mention made 
of the cock of the wood, or capercailzie, in a small tract, 
entitled, " A Description of the County of Angus, trans- 
" lated from the orginal Latin of Robert Edward, mini- 
(€ ster of Murroes," (Dundee, printed 1793) drawn up 
in the year 1678, which proves clearly the great abun 
.dance of this bird at that time in those parts of the Gram- 
pians belonging to the county of Angus. The male 
and the female, it should seem, (like the fashionables of 
the present day), live separately, till early in spring, the 
male 9 (( flushed with the joys of conjugal love, the wood- 
€€ cock, (capul-coille) from the spreading tree, takes his 
" airy flight to the less masculine cover of the heathy 
i€ plain ; with watchful looks he rears his waving crest 
" above the slender branches of the heath; his steps are 



€€ in search of the coy charmer of his breast, whose half-' 
u inviting distant notes he eagerly pursues with joyful 
€€ flight ; with majestic grace he shakes the varying co~ 
€€ lour of his swelling pride, and solicits the friendly glance 
u of the female eye, while the spreading wing invites he* 
(S to the warm embrace." " Fly not the arms of thy 
€€ lover," continues the poet, if daughter of the heath * 
€C this is the nuptial season of the feathered tribe : every 
<c tender pair taste the pleasures of love in the surround - 
€( hills. The joys of nature, without interruption, be thy 
" portion, sprightly daughter of the •nimble eye 1 thy 
" grateful lover will remain faithful to the charmer of his 
€i breast 5 he will yet provide thee food, and cheer thy 
cc heart with melodious notes* from the distant tree, 
" when thou spreadest thy motherly wings o'er the ten- 
" ants of the nest ; and, with the animating kindness of 
€< - thy speckled bosom, warm into existence a feeble crew, 
^ the feathered sons of the shell." (Clerk's Translation 
pf the Caledonian Bards, Vol. I. p. p. 189, 190.) 

6 Repeated by mistake, 

. 7 
They sleepless languish, pent in narrow space. — P. 35. 

Implore assistance, lilt implore too late. — P. 36. 

These notes allude to the miseries which, for want of 
room and medical assistance, many of the emigrants ex-> 

* With respect to the '* melodious note/' of the cock of the wood, how- 
ever, the naturalist is greatly at variance with the poet : he, (the caper- 
cailzie) places himself on an eminence, or perches on a tree, and calls the' 
female with " a noise not un}ike that of a scy the.* 1 Daniel's Rural Sports,- 

Vol. n. p. 137. 


P^ienced in their passage to America, proofs for which 
we,p fc first laid before the Highland Society of Scotland, 
^d afterwards communicated to ministry, immediately 
P^or to the bill which was passed (24th June 1803) for 
^stricting emigration to America from Great Britain and 

<* ■ 

To sink midst thousands in eternal rest. — P 36. 

The history of the plague holds out an awful lesson of 
the unavailing efforts of human skill, to counteract its ter- 
*lble effects in depopulating cities, districts, and conside- 
rable sections of the habitable globe : witness the descrip^ 
tion of pestilence given by various writers ; particularly 
that mentioned in ancient history, which first appeared in 
the reign of Justitian, and raged with unparallelled ma- 
lignity for fifty years. The great plague which had near* 
ly cut off the greater number of the citizens of London, in 
the year 1665, during which, in one fortnight, no less than 
one thousand one hundred and fourteen dead bodies, were 
thrown into one pit, dug on purpose, of 40 feet in length, 
by 16 in breadth, and 20 in depth, in the charter- house. 
And such was the dreadful state of distraction, that seve- 
ral instances are recorded of mothers, in the frenzy of the 
moment, rushing forth with their infants in their arms to 
the brink of the common grave, and in the agonies of de- 
spair, dropping the darling of their breast, and plunging 
headlong after it alive into the mass of putrefaction among 
their dead friends and kindred, (vide Journal of the Plague 
in the year 1665.) The dreadful calamity which made 
its appearance at Philadelphia in summer 1783, and af* 


terwards in different parts of America, and in several ol 
the West India islands, called, by way of distinction, the 
yellow-fever j (the worst species of ship or jail fever) is 
fresh in every one's memory. And what our fleets and 
armies have suffered by this terrible scourge of the human, 
race, need not here be repeated. 


^Retrace their steps , and seek their loathsome jail.— P. 37, 
This is a well known fact, the particulars respecting 
which were laid before Government. 


Will swarm with peaceful and lalorious men — P. 38. 

It seems one of those political first principles, which 
all acknowledge as incontrovertible, that population is 
uniformly great, in proportion as the means of subsistence 
increase. Hence the due culture of the soil yielding the 
necessary supplies for the immediate wants of nature, the » 
human species multiplies; and, in like manner, domestic 
animals reared by the earth; s produce, increase in number 
and improve in quality ; some of which furnishing ma- 
terials for raiment, and a more generous kind of food, 
and others assisting in the more laborious parts of rural 
economy, prove of the utmost importance in the progress 
of agricultural improvement, population, and civil refine- 
ment. But at any time, should a community become so 
numerous as to cause a considerable diminution of the or- 
dinary means of subsistence in those districts to which 
they belong ; then, in that case, it may be deemed neces- 
sary to rejpove to other unoccupied spots susceptible of. 


-^ulUvatlon ; and by degrees colonize, and improve the 
lands that lie nearest at hand ; and afterwards the more 
remote ; till at length the waste lands presenting sufficient 
encouragement to persons disposed to cultivate and fer- 
tilize the soil, many would naturally remove thither, in 
order to settle thereon, and establish their families by the 
fruits of their industry. And should even the waste-lands 
by unwearied perseverance, and well-directed labour, 
be converted from seemingly barren ground into por- 
tions of arable land, or pasture-ranges ; and of conse*- 
quence, the cultivators increase in population, so as ac- 
tually to be too numerous for the limits of their posses- 
sions ; then indeed, a distant region of the earth may, as 
a last shift, be resorted to, when allurements are in pros- 
pect which in the enjoyment shall make ample amends 
for the great sacrifice once made, of leaving the mother- 
country, endeared to individuals by those inexplicable feel- 
ings which bind them to the spot of their nativity. But let 
us bring this view of the subject home to the present ques- 
tion, and consider calmly the existing circumstances with 
regard to the improvement of waste-lands, as one of the 
great means of preventing emigration to America. 

It is well known that vast tracts of waste- land, highly 
susceptible of improvement, remain in a state of unpro- 
fitable sterility in many parts of South Britain and Ireland* 
Nay, within the confines of the Grampians, to say no- 
thing of the Western Islands, there are stretches of 
.moss-lands, or moor, which, if duly cultivated, would 
certainly yield corn, green crops, and pasture of the rich-* 
est quality. For instance, large tracts of moor are to be 
fpund in Caithness, Sutherland, and Boss shires ; witness 



die Black-island, as it is called, in the latter county op- 
posite Inverness ; besides other immense tracts of waste- 
lands in the western districts of Inverness-shire, Perth- 
shire, and county of Argyle ; in situations too, very fkvonr- 
aiWe for the raising crops of hemp, a circumstance worthy 
of notice : as it is alleged that the production of hemp 
exhausts the richer soils which yield food for man and 
domestic animals; of consequence, reclaimed wastes being 
so much added to the lands already cultivated, the gain is 
of a two- fold nature ; for corn-bearing land is thus spar- 
ed from being scourged by hemp-crops, and seemingly 
barren wilds are made to produce largely a raw commo- 
dity, for which immense sums are laid out by govern- 
ment, yearly, for the cordage and sail-cloth of our 
. fleets. But the production of hemp, great as it may be, 
is not the only consideration within the range of this pro* 
spect. Every one knows that reclaimed moss-grounds 
yield luxuriant crops of corn, tumip, and potatoes, which 
might be alternated with hemp, or flax, were those pro- 
ducts found upon fair trial to answer. 

Instead, therefore, of suffering our oppressed Gael t<r 
emigrate to America, allure them by every possible en- 
couragement to improve and. colonize those vast tracts of 
waste-lands within the confines of the Grampians, Wes- 
tern Isles, and Orkneys : And should those wastes be 
duly cultivated and peopled, even beyond the most san- 
guine hope, are there not immense tracts of moor-land 
in the counties of Ayr, Dumfries, and Galloway, which 
might be colonized from the Grampians : And should 
even those waste lands be improved and peopled to the 
utmost extent ; are there not abundance of waste-lands in 


^U^and and Wales highly susceptible of culture, to which 
°*H' Gael might be invited, and become useful to them* 
*^lves, and serviceable to a nation by the increase of their 
**\unbers, and diligence of each in some useful department 
^F rural economy, or agricultural improvement. 

It is a well known fact, that, though there are forty 
^trillions of acres under constant cultivation in Great Bri- 
tain, yet the yearly produce of those are in truth inade- 
quate to the ordinary supplies of the men and horses of 
our island. And it is well ascertained also, that there are 
no less than twenty-two millions three hundred and fifty 
thousand acres of waste-lands, which neither the spade nor 
the plough have ever touched, yet highly susceptible of im- 
provement ; but being thus suffered to remain in a state 
of unprofitable sterility, is a national reproach, and a dis- 
grace to this age of agricultural speculation ; more espe 
cially when it is considered with what success the culti 
vation of moss-ground has been attended ; witness one 
singular instance, namely the moss of Kincardine, the 
property of George Drummond Home, Esq., some account 
of which I gave in my Tour in Scotland, printed in the year 
1802. But having been led into some mistakes respect- 
ing the real state of improvements of that once dreary 
waste, I gladly embrace the present occasion of correct- 
ing the errors alluded to ; and at the same time presenting 
the reader with an accurate statement of the population, 
live-stock, grounds cleared, &c. of said moss, which the 
proprietor himself has politely communicated, in answer 
to my queries respecting its improved state, transmitted 
to his brother-in-law, Henry Jardine, Esq, of the Ex- 


chequer, by whom it was forwarded to me on the 19th 
January 1804. 

It is sufficiently well known, that the late Henry Home 
Lord Karnes, was the original projector of colonizing and 
improving that part of his property on the Blair-Drum- 
mond estate, called the Kincardine moss. In the year 
1 767 * a portion of that moss-ground was let in lease to 
one person, being the first tenant who boldly ventured on 
this bleak, inhospitable waste. In the year 1783, the 
present proprietor entered into possession of the estate in 
question, when there remained unoccupied about two- 
thirds of the whole extent of the moss. And following 
up the steps of his illustrious predecessor, he adopted a 
more liberal and spirited plan of improvement; the con- 
sequence of which is, that one- third of the whole is at 
this moment reclaimed ; and an example thus held out 
to the island at large, of what perseverance, and well- 
directed diligence may realize, under circumstances, in 
aspect, the most cheerless and fordidding. But, in order 
to satisfy the reader, I shall here quote the words of the 
communication, as the existing facts respecting the popu- 
lation and improvements will prove the best commentary 
on a plan, deemed, by some superficial observers, rather 
visionary ; but which time and experience have shewn 
clearly, that they who viewed it thus at a distance, saw 
dimly through the hazy medium of prejudice ; or with a 
squint, in which case, things invariably appear double, or 

i€ The present state of population, ground cleared, &c, 
ff of the Kincardine moss, January 17th 1804. 


€€ Number of families, • 159 

" Ditto, of souls 720 

• €€ Ditto, of Scots acres cleared about 500 

4€ Ditto, of cows . about 159 

4C Ditto, of horses about 60 

<Q Ditto, of carts . about 60 

€€ It need only be mentioned that, were the leases out, 
every acre cleared would, at this moment, let currently 
at from 40 to 50 shillings per acre. Meantime the 
tenants are reaping the fruits of their industry, very 
justly, by possessing the ground they have cleared, 
it low rents, upon long leases, (i. e. 57 years) the 
terms of which are mentioned in the Encyclopaedia 

What a striking instance of productive labour ! on a 
»t, too, which not more than thirty-seven years ago was 
a state of seemingly hopeless sterility ! 720 souls main- 
led on the produce of five hundred acres of arable 
•und, besides furnishing subsistence to 1 59 cows and 
horses, in an extent in whole of not more tljan fifteen 
tidred acres, including moss-grounds as yet untouched 
the spade or the plough ! 

Would it not be worthy of a patriotic association, say 
fifty or an hundred gentlemen of property, to follow a 
rilar line of improvement and population, as that so 
spily realized on the moss-grounds of Kincardine? 
.y, might not such an association, purchase, not only 
3te-lands, but also considerable tracts of pasture, for the 
rpose of introducing an improved system of store-farm- 
;, together with an establishment of woolen manufac- 
e, which ought always to be conjoined with the rear- 


ing of a fine-wool breed of sheep, such as that peculiar to 
the Grampians and Western Isles ? Thus population and 
improvement would go hand in hand, and thus would 
public advantage, as it ever ought, be conjoined with 
private benefit, the natural and happy result of virtuous 
ingenuity, and well-directed industry,— the never-failing 
source of the Wealth op Nations. 


Th $ alarming ill — and benefit the whole.— P. 39. 
Although I am disposed to give sufficient credit to 
those who, in the alarm of the moment, from good inten- 
tions, urged on the framing and passing of the" act for re- 
" gulating the vessels carrying passengers fromtheUnited 
< c Kingdom to his Majesty's plantations and settlements 
€€ abroad, or to foreign parts, with respect to the number 
€€ of such passengers," (24th June 1 803) yet, considering it 
a bold and untried remedy in the cure of a desperate dis- 
ease, I earnestly wish that the patient may not die of 
the doctor. But when the subject of emigration is re- 
sumed, I trust our senators will not be taken by surprize ; 
as by that time, perhaps, they will be better informed 
with respect to the real interests of the nation, as well as 
the true causes of disgust that gave rise to the late migra- 
tions from the Grampians and adjacent isles. 

,. / 


On earth's vast bosom where can such be found. — P. 14. 
The inexhaustible treasures of the mineral kingdom 
universally dispersed throughout the Hebrides and Gram- 
pian Mis, haye beeu described by tourists, and naturalists^ 


professed mineralists, so often, as to render any mi- 

t detail in this place altogether superfluous ; I shall 

efore refer the reader to B. F. Saint Fond's Travels, 

instated by Ross) Aitkin's Tour, Sinclair's Statistical 

count of Scotland, Jamieson's Mineralogy of the 

Dttish Isles, and William's Natural History of the Mi- 

ral Kingdom, for particular information respecting the 

eat variety of marbles, porphyry, granite, &c. to be- 

und in those districts. 






And urge his coming in his kindling ire. — P. 46. 
Alluding to the descent of the God Brahma for the 
tenth time, in order to destroy all delinquents whose a- 
mendment is hopeless, agreeable to one of the dogmas of 
the Hindoo religion, which in many respects resemble 
those of the Jewish and Christian creeds, and heathen 

Supreme disposer of vast India's stores. — P. 47. 
The discovery of India and America forms one of those 
epochs in the history of mankind, which give a turn to 
the intellectual, but more especially to the active feelings 
of the soul. Any one the least conversant in ancient 
and modern history is fully aware that the predominant 
passions of adventurers are, inordinate ambition and an 
ungovernable degree of avarice ; which certainly debase 
the mind, and stifle the generous emotions that exalt hu- 
man nature, and distinguish the individual. 


gold is the soul 

social order's wisely plan'd controul. — P. 
tdeville's " Fable of the Bees," will best illus- 
e verses I have devoted to this passage. iC Pri- 
vices, public benefits " is the ruling maxim with 
oliticians. Moral philosophers have hitherto in 
mbated this pernicious sentiment ; with the ex- 

of a dignified ecclesiastic still living, whose sys- 
moral philosophy is deemed by many the heighth 
an wisdom : the illustrious moralist alluded to 
ins, that the general well-being of a country, 
lly the condition most favourable to its popula- 

(I shall quote his own words) " that of a laborious 
! people ministering to the demands of an opulent 
rious nation." Vide Paley's Mor. Phil. Vol. II. 
i. 359. Would to heaven ! ethics and political 
ly were not at such variance as at present they 
> be ! Are they destined to remain so ? 

rce forty summers since an alien breed c— -P« 55. 
at part of the present poem was written in Au- 
d September 17 99 to the young lady (my daugh- 
law) to whom it is addressed, from the wilds of 
>er, whilst resident in the house of our principal 
rd, and manager of country affairs, from whom I 
lown the following circumstances respecting the 
jinnings of the sheep- store system, or alien breed, 
s region of the Grampians and Western Isles. So 
the person alluded to remembers, when he was a 




!ad at school, ^about the beginning of whiter 1759> he 
was employed by one James Yule, a shepherd or store- 
farmer at Alva near Stirling, to keep a flock of about 
four hundred hogs •> lambs of a year old) during that 
season, on part of the lands of Mr Buchanan of Cam- 
busmore, near Callander in Monteith, at the foot of 
the Grampians, in the western district of Perthshire. The 
reason of James Yule making this trial, was, that by ^ 
thus relieving his winter- pasture of a number of the 
younger store, those which remained behind had a 
greater range, and consequently a better chance of 
more food, when scanty, during the dead of winter, and 
before the new grass appears in spring-time. Hence 
the sheep are in tolerable condition, and are less liable 
to those diseases which so frequently cut off such 
numbers of the flock. This trial turning out well, in- 
duced Yule to repeat the experiment ; and others follow- 
ing his example, very soon came to learn the benefit of 
stocking lightly ; or of relieving a pretty numerous store 
when heavy on the winter-pasture, especially in years of 
continued storms of snow, or of intense black frost. Soon 
after these attempts to introduce the alien, or llack-Jatei 
Linton breed of sheep into the highlands, several shepherds 
from the hilly districts of south or Scottish border, took 
large tracts of country for sheep-walks ; and among the first 
who ventured within the confines of the Grampian' hills, 
was one Lackwyne, who went to Cowal in Argyleshire. 
Not long after this adventure, other two of the name of 
Murray, who came somewhere from the border, set- 
tled in Glenfallach and Glendochart in Perthshire: and a 
$hort time thereafter, one Lindsay stocked a considerable 



Stretch of country near Locheirin-head, in the same coun- 
ty. From these beginnings, then, we date the sheep- 
store system, which within the last twenty years has 
spread so rapidly in every direction ; and which at pre- 
sent threatens to extirpate not only the native breeds of 
sheep and black cattle, but even the ancient race of the 
Gael, the " bold peasantry" of our mountains and west- 
ern isles — 

" 111 fares the land, to hast'ning ills a prey, 
" Where wealth accumulates, and men decay ; 
€c Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade, 
€i A breath can make them as a breath has made ; 
ft But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, 
4C When once destroy'd, can never de supplied/* 



And Irave a thousand deaths of various form.~-&, 5f$* 
Perhaps it is none of the least of the many properties 
)f the native breed of sheep of the Grampians, that of 
heir braving the inclemency of the seasons far beyond 
hose of any other sort that has hitherto been introduced 
>y our sheep- store masters. But, in truth, there are 
>thier considerations, of more weight, which ought im- 
>artially to be examined with regard ' to the" particular 
>reeds of sheep which might be reared in the highlands 
Kid adjacent isles ; particularly with respect to the dell- 
:acy and richness of flavour of the muscular solid, as an 
trticle of food ; and more especially the texture of the 
rool, the great staple for British manufacture. Now, it 

o 2 


is a well-known fact, that the Linton, or black-faced 
breed, which were originally introduced into the Gram- 
pians, (i. e. after the year 1759), though when compared 
to the large white- faced or Leicester sheep, afford more 
delicate muscular solid, yet are in this respect infinitely 
inferior to the small delicious mutton of the real native 
breed ; which, like that of the Welch, is little inferior in 
point of flavour to venison, and as easy of manducation, 
as the firmest well-fed veal, or the tenderest mountain- 
lamb, in its proper season. Without doubt, the Linton 
sheep are hardy, and easily reared in mountainous dis- 
tricts ; but then they are very subject to a loathsome and 
fatal distemper called braxy, which carries off prodigious 
numbers, iand those, too, of the best, to appearance, of 
the flock. But the native breed seem not liable to that 
disease, as, previous to the introduction of the Linton 
breed, I am credibly informed no such disorder as braxy 
was ever heard of in the Grampians or Western Isles. The 
fleece of the black-faced sort is long, loose, shaggy, and 
coarse in texture ; of consequence fetches but a low price 
when: sent to market. The native breed, on the contrary, 
possess fleeces of a texture remarkable for fineness, close- 
ness, and softness to the sense of touch ; and when 
sent to the market, fetch double, nay treble the sum the 
merchant allows for the coarse wool. Now, since our 
native breed (of whatever variety) are hardier, and endure 
the inclemency of the winter and spring, are of a supe- 
rior quality of carcase, and are easier fattened, and their 
fleece of a closer texture, and finer pile \ it is but reason- 
able to conclude, that we ought to rear those best sorts of 
our native breed in preference to any alien species or va- 


• • * 

*iety whatsoever ; except those indeed that come nearest 

*he native in point of fleece and mutton ; such as the 
^forth Wales, the Cheviot, the Galloway, and Zetland 
breeds, which it is generally believed are pretty nearly 
a Uied to those of the western isles, which Donald Mon- 
*o (whom Buchanan quotes, Book I.) mentions to have 
s een " feeding masterless, partayning peculiarly to no 
Cc man ;" about the end of the fifteenth century. And 
8ome imagine this breed was introduced by the Danes, 
when the Hebrides were in their possession. Were I 
not satisfied in my own mind, that the native breed was 
preferable to all others, I would strongly recommend, in 
preference to the Iraocy black- faced Linton breed, those 
of Cheviot, Ryeland, Southdown, and even the Spanish 
breed, which on certain altitudes above the level of the 
sea, and under favourable circumstances, with proper 
management, might thrive well, and prove a source of 
private advantage and national wealth. Before dismiss- 
ing this subject, I shall drop the hint following, and 
state it by way of query. Might not the Highland So- 
ciety institute an enquiry respecting the possibility of re- 
storing the ancient breed of sheep ; and, on being fully 
satisfied with regard to the facts above stated, would it not 
prove a stimulus to some spirited individuals, were a hand- 
some premium held out, for any one who, in the course 
of a given time, should produce the greatest number, in 
the first place, and afterwards of the best quality, of the 
native breed, — the number of such a flock not to be un- 
der threescore ? At first the chief attention ought to be 
directed to the restoration of the true breed ; and after- 
wards to draw, year after year, and thus ; better the breed, 

o a 


till at length it shall be found that the breed is in fo ct 
improved in bone and fineness of wool ; and I will W 
bold to say that our native sheep shall, in point of size* 
be little, if at all, under those of the hraxy sort ; and as- 
suredly in point of mutton, and of fleece, far superior and 
profitable ; add to this the healthiness and hardiness of 
the former in comparison of the latter, circumstances of 
great moment in the eye of the store-master. For farther 
information on this very interesting subject, the reader is 
referred lo the writings of Dr James Anderson, Dr John 
Smith, Sir John Sinclair's, Statistical Accounts, and the 
Farmer's Magazine. 


Their hones are found beneath the melting wreath.— P. 57. 
In thinly inhabited countries, such as the Grampians 
now present, the greatest danger of travelling, particularly 
during winter, or early in spring, arises from the want 
of houses, cottages, or huts, whose inhabitants might oc- 
casionally offer shelter for a night to the passing stranger, 
should he happen to be either benighted or suddenly over- 
taken by a storm. The melancholy accidents that fre- 
quently occur, of persons perishing among the snow, 
and whose bodies remain covered beneath, till pretty far 
advanced in spring, seem little regarded ; and though the 
relatives of the deceased live at a great distance from the 
spot on which the devoted victim breathed his last, yet, 
if but the bare skeleton remain (and it often happens that 
the birds of prey pick the muscles entirely off the bones 
before they be discovered), the mournful duties of sepul- 
ture are religiously performed^ by carrying the sad remains 


a ftxe hallowed spot where the forefathers of the de 
°^sed repose in peace ; and I have known instances 
°* bodies so found, carried the distance of thirty or 
forty miles over the most dreary, bleak, and almost im 
Passable moor to the place of interment. 


Repose they find not, till lenortk the Tweed. — P. 60. 

Alluding to the inhospitable treatment of unfortunate 
strangers in hurrying them from hamlet to village, from 
village to market-town, from town to city, till the persons 
so treated reach the parish to which they belong ; an in- 
human practice, which the poor-laws sanction south of 
the Tweed; consequently is deemed proper, lest theindivi* 
dual should become a burden on the parish, already groan* 
ing under a weight of indolent paupers who live at their 
ease on the industry of the laborious poor, and others who 
are enormously taxed in order to support an establishment 
with which the northern section of our island is happily 
Unacquainted. It has often been matter of surprise to 
me, that some simple plan has never been devised to mi-> 
tigate the oppressive burden necessarily imposed by the 
existing laws relative to the poor-rates. If the following 
hints, which I shall give in the form of queries, rouse 
some ingenious person's attention to this extremely in- 
teresting subject, so as to frame a practicable scheme for 
the industrious poor maintaining themselves in old age, 
sickness, or decayed circumstances, the end will be well 
served, and highly gratifying to my feelings, in having 
been instrumental of so great a good to the nation at large, 


but more especially to the inhabitants of the souths* 
section of Great Britain. 

1 . Whether a male, sound in mind and body, of th* 
full age of twenty -one years, married, or unmarried, who 
being possessed of neither patrimony nor means of living 
without labour or some honest sort of industry ; and havr 
ing learned a trade, or being employed honourably by 
sea-faring persons, or by those who cultivate the soil, rear 
cattle, &c. may not by law be made to pay one farthing 
in the shilling of his earning or gain by labour, till he be 
•twenty-eight years of age ; one farthing in the two shil- 
lings till he be thirty-five ; one farthing in the three shil- 
lings till he be forty-two ; and one farthing in the four 
shillings till he be forty-nine : After which he shall cease 
to pay, and be entitled, in the event of sickness, ill- 
health, or decayed circumstances, to a certain sum week- 
ly for his subsistence ? 

2. Whether a female of the age above mentioned, and 
under similar circumstances, might not be made pay one 
half of the sums specified, if unmarried, and be entitled to 
the benefit in like manner as the male ? 

3. Whether, in case of a male or female of the above 
description falling into an ill state of health, imbecility 
of mind, or decayed circumstances, might not be entitled 
to receive subsistence money at any period of life, provid- 
ed such were found deserving of succour from the parish 
or district in which an individual lived at the time of his 
or her misfortune ? 

4. Whether, in order to prevent imposition with re- 
spect to the idle, dissolute, or of rogues and vagabonds* 
or incorrigible delinquents, it might not be expedient td 


^e a code of appropriate laws, and appoint a Commit- 
' of Inspection in each parish, or district, for the pur-* 
se of regulating matters relative to the proper objects of 
e charitable fund thus pointed out ? 
5. Whether, instead of work-houses, colleges, &c. for 
5 reception of the poor, it might not be better, upon the 
lole, to board individuals in the houses of respectable 
•sons of the same rank in life, either in town or 
miry ? 

5. Whether a permanent fund might not be establish- 
for the relief of the widows and orphans of the indus- 
>us poor, by a very moderate poor-rate, say three- 
ice in the pound of actual rent of lands or of houses ; 
a half to be paid by the proprietor, and the other half by 
t tenant for the time being ; and that said fund should 
managed by the committee of inspection as mentioned 
>ve ? 

r . Whether, in cases of idleness, feigned distress, rogue- 
fee, a bridewell would not be a necessary establish- 
ing, in order to reclaim delinquents, or sturdy beggars, 
1 by this means relieve the parish of vagrants, and va- 
>onds, and cause them maintain themselves by the 
eat of their brow, or compulsory diligence ? 
3. Whether, if after establishments such as those re- 
timended, sanctioned by law, and wisely governed, 
/ paupers, strictly so called, would be found in a well 
iilated commonwealth, when thus duly provided for in 
kness, decayed circumstances, or old age ; and all this 
>ught about by the savings of individual industry, ac- 
nulating as a permanent fund for the benefit of the 
iok : thus annihilating poor rates^ and creating a new 


source of .succour to the indigent, but industrious classes 
of the nation ? 

A thousand objections, I am fully aware, might be start- 
ed against the scheme thus hinted at ; but if the bare sug- 
gestion of it set others a- thinking on some more practi- 
cable one, my intention is answered, and the public 
thereby gainers, which is my utmost wish ; in a word, 
Let the poor maintain themselves. A proposition 
in political economy, of too great importance to be treat- 
ed but as it deserves, 

Our senate wisely trusts in part to yow.— P. 64. 
That there are Proprietors of the Grampian and west- 
ern isles, who love their tenantry, and cherish a becom- 
ing spirit of improvement, free from that purblind policy 
of oppressing the poor, is a fact too well known to need 
illustration in this place. And, it is hoped, when the Le- 
gislature shall resume the consideration of the best means 
to restore the Gael to their native country, or frame laws 
for the better accommodation of our highland peasantry, 
and tacksmen of conditiony that they who have withstood 
the temptations of rack-rent, and who have never ventur- 
ed to turn to the wide world the ancient race of tenants, 
will come forward with becoming dignity, and give every 
countenance Jo a well digested scheme, for bettering the 
condition of the poor, and establishing our peasantry in 
their former possessions, or in others of equal value, and 
comfortable accommodation. 






Let those true marks le found your herds among. — P. 71. 

A Cow, of the Sky or Kintail breed, is a remarkably 
handsome animal ; it carries its head erect, which gives it 
a deer-like air, peculiar to the cattle of those districts. 
Besides a straight, thick back, deep in the rib, elevated 
head and neck ; small blue or clear yellow horns, tipt 
with black, and sharp-pointed ; the hide of a dark brown 
colour, short legs, and large bushy tail, — are marks truly 
characteristic of a cow, ox, or bull, of the real highland 
breed of black-cattle, 

The dreadful screidan rolls its ruin wide. — P. 74. 

A screidan is that terrible appearance which the sudden 
bursting forth of the side of a mountain exhibits during 
a tremendous storm, and leaves a deep chasm, indicative 
of the fearful convulsion which took place at the moment : 
Many such gaps may be seen among the Grampians : 
Their effects are sometimes truly destructive and awful. 



And all the power of human skill derides. — P. 79. 
The notion of abstracting the butyraceous part of 
cream by witchcraft, was prevalent not only in the high- 
lands, but also in the lowlands of Scotland, and is glanced 
at by Allan Ramsay in the Gentle Shepherd, 

" JVhenTiBBY kirn'd (churn 'dj and there nae luttercame" 

Chemistry, however, has broke .the spell, and the cause 
why an imperfect concretion of the butyraceous particles 
takes place in churning, has at length been detected. 
Cream is a mixture of cheese and butter, which is col- 
lected on the surface of the milk; the admission of the 
common air, from which oxygene is absorbed, in agitat- 
ing the cream, is necessary to the operation ; otherwise 
the formation of butter does not take place ; hence the 
failure when air is cut off from the mass in the act of 
churning; which superstition ascribed to supernatural 
power, or witchcraft, 


For all the season's requisite supplies. — P. 79. 
The choice of pasture-ranges is a first consideration 
with the store-master, whose live-stock consists of sheep 
chiefly. The great aim is sufficient extent of high and 
low pasture.; two- thirds, or at least one half, of strono* 
heathy soil, where cainchean (Euiophorum, Lin.) or 
moss- crops, or cotton-grass, spring up early in February, 
and is reckoned excellent food, and is the first which 
sheep nibble greedily on after the severities of the winter. 


This species of grass, when full grown, has a beautiful 
appearance ; the down of its seeds is white as snow, some- 
what of a silky texture, but resembling in its general ap- 
pearance cotton ; hence called cotton-grass. When ga- 
thered by the country people, they stuff beds with it, and 
it is little if at all inferior to eider-down in point of soft- 
ness and elasticity. To cainchean succeeds Cip-chean- 
duhb (Scripus. Lin.) Deer-hair, or club-rush, and is 
the choice food of sheep and black cattle, from the begin- 
ning of March till pretty far advanced in May ; when a 
great variety of nutritious grasses spring up, which sup- 
ply the herds and flocks in the higher pasture- ranges till 
the middle of October ; when it is proper to allow them 
to descend to the lower ranges, except in fine weather, 
when they may be turned to more elevated situations, in, 
order to save the wintering. 


Or should your nether range the turnip rear. — P. 79. 

The preservation of live-stock through winter displays 
the skill o he experienced store-master more than any 
other part of his arduous task ; to this, therefore, his 
whole attention ought steadily to be directed. In order 
that the flocks and herds may have a sufficient supply of 
food, on which their safety, comfort, and good condition, . 
depend ; besides what they may be able to procure them- 
selves in mild open weather (which seldom happens, save 
in very sheltered places, particularly near inlets of the sea, 
along considerable tracts of sea- shore, or insular situa- 
tions) it will be prudent, nay necessary, to make as much 
hay in due season as possible ; and where this cannot be 


had, heath-top hay may answer very well as a substitute 
This practice, I find, is followed by the farmers of tfr e 
higher parts of Strathdon, Aberdeenshire, where they c^t 
off the heath when it is in bloom, about the latter end oi 
July, or beginning of August. During severe snow- 
storms, the people of that district are sometimes under the 
necessity of uncovering the heath with spadesjin order that 
their sheep may nibble the tops of it, which frequently is 
the means of saving hundreds, which for sheer want would 
otherwise inevitably perish. But if, instead of the tardy 
and operose mode of uncovering the heath or sward with 
spades, the snow-plough were used, the operation would 
not only be more expeditious, but much more effectual. 
See " Observations on the Advantages that might be de- 
<€ rived from the Snow-Plough, by the Sheep-Farmers in 
" the Highlands ;" by Dr J. Anderson, Report on the 
Shetland Wool, Appendix, NO. VII. An implement of 
husbandry similar to the preceding, is that made use 
of in Norfolk called the snow-sledge, for uncovering 
turnips in the field during deep snows that have lain long 
on the ground. (See Marshall's Rural Economy of 
Northfolk, Vol. I. p. 59.) Turnips, above all, ought, 
if possible, to constitute the staple article of the winter 
provision of the store-farm. In some parts of the high- 
lands turnips have been introduced, and cultivated with 
the greatest success : I shall only mention three instances 
at very considerable distances from each other, in the 
very bosom of the Grampian mountains, viz. at Fascally 
(the property of Mr Butter) near the pass of Killicrankie; 
at Dall (a farm belonging to the Honourable Baron Nor- 
ton) in Rannoch } and at Blarour (in the possession of 


™ same gentleman) part of the property of the Duke 
°f Gordon in Lochaberj at which places turnip crops 
** reared of the very best quality ; and prove of the 
S^atest advantage in feeding sheep and black- cattle durr 
^g winter, and severe weather in spring-time, 


Obeys the whistle shrill, or wave of hand. — P. 80. 
The wonderful sagacity of the shepherd's dog, when 
veil trained, cannot be conceived by any one who has 
lot had an opportunity of witnessing the use he is of in 
he management of the flock. The shepherd's dog of 
rue breed requires but little trouble in teaching him his 
uty : a shepherd is generally attended by two dogs, a 
tearing-dog that will cast off, and keep steadily in front 
f the flock, not permitting a hoof to stir till commanded 
y his master : and a gathering-dag, that will ascend with 
;reat celerity the summit of the highest hills, gather in 
be wanderers to the flock, hunt them away to the 
eights, or thence convey them slowly down to the fank 
r fold as ected ; all which he performs most faithfully, 
without ever touching the sheep, or. annoying them in 
le smallest degree : The sheep-cur, or sheep-biter, is of a 
very different nature, for though 

€€ A pattern of fidelity by day ; 

By night a murderer, (lurking for his prey) ; 

And round the pastures or the field will creep^ 
t€ And coward-like attack the peaceful sheep : 
** Alone the wanton mischief he pursues, 
" Alone in reeking blood his jaws imbrues j 




€€ Chacing amain his fright'ned victims rounds . 
€l Till death in wild confusion strews the ground ; 
" Then wearied put, to kennel sneaks away, 
€€ And licks his guilty paws till brjeak of day. 
" The deed discover'd, and the news once spread, 
" Vengeance hangs o'er th* unknown culprit's head.' 


A shepherd with whom I am acquainted told me late- 
ly, that he shot nine dogs of this description in one spring, 
whilst watching for these blood-thirsty wretches : he 
was then serving at Bowcastle, an extensive grazing on 
the eastern shoulder of Benledi, one of the loftiest of the 
Grampian .hills, near Callander in Monteith, a populous 
village, whence, most likely, the sheep-biters stole, forth 
under night, and commited their depredations, 


The mountain-echoes now salute again. — P. 80. 
A mountain fox-hunting differs greatly from the or- 
dinary exertions and pleasures of the chace in situations 
less elevated, or in an open country where horsemen can 
follow the pack in the doublings of the game they are in 
chace of. There are regular fox-hunters in almost every 
district, that are employed at a yearly allowance, collect- 
ed as regularly as the minister's stipend. 

Defy'd the terrors of his awful leak. — P. 85. 
That the Romans penetrated the Grampians (i. e. the 
chain of mountains that runs from Lochlomoijiae^Stone- 


haven, anciently called Dmm-allan, and the Muwnth, 
^comprehending a range of more than a hundred miles in 
the direction of S. W. N. E.) is sufficiently ascertained 
from the remains of their encampments in Strath- Allan, 
Strath-Eirin, and Glen-Lion. Near the confluence of the 
Tay and water of Lion, at Fortingal, (i. e. the Fort of 
Strangers) the remains of a fort is still visible ; not far 
from which, it is supposed, the native warriors gave a 
check to the farther progress of the Romans in that direc- 
tion, which happened in the sixth year of Julius Agrico-' 
la's expedition, A. C. 83. This skirmish of the Romans 
"with the Gael continued long a stumbling-block to our 
^British antiquaries, with respect to its being that celebrat- 
ed by Tacitus, as the decisive battle of Mons Grampius } 
and the scene of action was laid in this district of Perth- 
shire, either in Strath-Eirin, or in Strath-Allan. But 
military men had their doubts ; till at length General 
Melville, who was led to imagine, from his knowledge of 
military movements, that the battle of Mons Grampius 
must have happened in a more likely station ; and rea- 
soning a priori, that the Roman general having attempted 
in vain to penetrate the interior of that lofty range of 
mountains which rose in his front, he would naturally 
keep along their base in that direction where they nar- 
rowed the country toward the sea : and accordingly, 
Melville, under this impression, made a tour in the year 
1754 through Strathmore; and was fortunate enough 
to trace Agricola's march along that great valley ; and he 
discovered four camps which had been occupied by the 
Romans and their auxiliaries in their progress northward 
i& order to conquer the Caledonians, The late General 


Roy, a man of science, deep research, and military ] 
ledge, who made an accurate survey of the several re 
of Roman stations and encampments in our islan 
lowing up General Melville's idea and discoveries, 
the march of Agricola till he was met by Galgacus 
gach) near Unr, about three miles from Stone 
(Stein-hive) in Aberdeenshire, where the Grar 
slope toward the sea ; the most likely spot for. a § 
to post his army in order to check the farther prog 
a powerful enemy ; and" of all others the most pre 
where valour, skill, and military discipline united, 
avail against equal courage, advantageous positioi 
strength of numbers : hence Roy concludes, nay d< 
strates, as far as the nature of the thing will admit 
near Ury 9 about three miles from Stonehaven, is tit 
on which the battle of Mons Grampius was fought, 
proved so fatal to the Caledonian leader and his nur 
army ; and so glorious to the Romans ; on which 
sion, if we are to credit the narration of the son-i 
of the conquerer, this celebrated victory wasob 
without the loss of Roman blood. (Fide Tacitus 
Agricolae.) Great as the Romans were, and alt 
they carried their devastations beyond the Murray- 
yet the ancient Gael, with their allies the Cruitl 
Fichtied, or Pictis, repelled the foe, and drove h 
superior force and skill beyond not only the Spey, 
and Forth, but also out of the Scottish dominions^ 
the Roman Eagle had displayed the terrors of its 
beak for four hundred and twenty-five years ; i. e. 
the first landing of Caesar in Ante C. 55. till the fit 
parture oi ihe Romans A t C. 420. $ when the 


^tons, harrassed by the Scots and Picts, called in th* 
^^ons to their assistance ; when, agreeable to the uni- 
*°nn custom of successful auxiliaries, they subdued pot 
0r *ly their foes,. but also their friends ; and (all by way of 
**iendship) kept possession of the reclaimed territories, 
^hich many of their descendants retain to this day, 


Kkeen Eirin's sons sigh' d o'er their race laid low J— P. 85. 
That the Gael of Eirin, and the Gael of Albin, Al- 
Ibania, or Scotland, were originally one and the same 
people, all rational antiquaries seem agreed ; but whether „ 
Ireland was peopled from Great Britain, or Great Britain 
from Ireland, is not so clear. Some antiquaries are of 
opinion that the Gael of Ergyl, Ergeithel, the ancient do- 
minions of the Scots or Gael, were from Ireland: and that 
about the middle of the. ninth century they emigrated in- 
to the lands of the Picts, after their having subdued the 
inhabitants. And that, owing to the Gael thus leaving 
their original dominions, the Norwegians took posses- 
sion of Ergyl and the isles, and kept those districts till 
the year 1 266, when the sovereign of Norway resigned his 
claim to that conquest. (Fide Macpherson's Geographi- 
cal Illustrations of Scottish History.) 


Andfict it on the spot where now it &$*—P. 8<>* 

It is still a matter of some doubt, whether the stone 

fixed in the coronation-chair in Westminster abbey, be 

the same that was carried off by Edward from the palace 

of Scone. The learned Toland, it should seem, viewed 



fiie matter in a different light, as appears from the sub~ 
joined passages. €t Nor will I dwell longer here, than 
" our subject requires, on the Fatal Stone so called, on 
€€ which the supreme kings of Ireland used to be inau- 
" gurated in times of heathenism on the hill of* Tarakfi 


* " Teambuir, or in the oblique cases Teambra, whence cor- 
ruptly Taragb t or Tarab." 

f " The true names of this stone are, LiagfaU, or the fatal- 
stone, and Clocb na cineambna, or the stone of fortune : both of 
them from a persuasion the ancient Irish had, that in what 
country soever this stone remained, there one of their blood 
was to reign. But this proved as false as such other prophe- 
sies for 300 years, from Edward I. to the reign of James I. in 
England The Druidical oracle is in verse, and in these on* 
ginal words : 

Cioniodh scuit saor on fine, 

. Man ba breag an Taisdine, 

Mar a bbfuigbid an Lie fail, 

Dligbid fiaitbeas do gbabbail. 

Which may be read thus truely, but monkishly translated, 111 
Hector Boethiw : 

Nif allot fatum, Scott, quocunque location 
Invenient lapidem banc, regnare tenentur ibidem. 
The Lowland Scots have rhymed it thus : 

Except old Saws do feign, 
And wizards wits be blind, 
The Serfs in place must reign, 
Where they thy sfgna shall find. 


ind which being inclosed in a wooden chair, was thought 
p emit a sound under the rightful candidate (a thing 
easily managed by the Druids) but to be mute under 

id some English poet has thus rendered it : 

Consider ', Scot, where'er you find this stone, 
If fates faU not, there fixt must be your throne. 

te Irish pretend to have memoirs concerning it for above 
do years : nay Ireland itself is sometimes, from this stone, 
the poets called InisfaiL But how soon they begun to use 
or whence they had it, lyes altogether in the dark. What 
tain is, that after having long continued at Tarah, it was, 
the purpose I have mentioned, sent to Fergus, the first ac- 
i king of Scots \ and that it lay in Argile (the original seat 
the Scots in Britain) till, about the year of Christ 842, that 
inneth II. the son of Alpin, having enlarged his borders by 
: conquest of the Picts, transferred this stone, for the same 
rpose as before, to Scone. So great respect is still paid by 
ristians to a heathen prophecy ! not only false in fact, as I 
sre this moment proved > but evidently illusory and equivocal, 
being a thing most difficult to find any prince in Europe, 
o, some way or other, may not claim kindred of every other 
ncely race about him, and consequently be of that blood. 
11s is the case of our present Sovereign King George, who is 
leed # desc ended of the Scottish race, but yet in propriety of 
tech is not of the Scottish line $ but the first here of the 
unswick line, as others begun the British, Saxon, Danish, 
xo-Danish, Norman, Saxo-Norman, and Scottish lines. Yet 
s not being the sense in which the Irish and Scots under- 
ad the' oracle, they ought consequently at this very time %q 
k upon it as false and groundless." 



Ci a man of none or a bad title, that is, one Who was n&* 
g€ for the turn of those priests. Every one has read o> 
" Memnon's vocal statue in Egypt. This fatal ston^ 
€€ was superstitiously sent to confirm the Irish colony in 
" the north of Great Britain, where it continued as the 
€€ coronation -seat of the Scottish kings, even since 
"Christianity; till, in the year 1300, Edward I. of 
€€ England brought it from Scone, placing it under the 
€€ coronation-chair at Westminster : and there it still 
* € continues, the ancientest respected monument in the 
" world ; for though some others may be more ancient 
¥ as to duration, yet thus superstitiously regarded they 
" are not. I had almost forgot to tell you, that it is now 
" by the vulgar called Jacob-stone, as if this had been 
*' Jacob's pillow at Bethel/' 


And hence arose the conflicts oftlye Clans. — P. 86. 
See « The History of the Feuds and Conflicts of the 
*' Clans in the Northern Parts of Scotland, and Western 
"Isles; from the year 1031 unto 1719/* Glasgow, 
printed in the year 1764* 


Yet aquavitce of the Grampian hills. — P. 80, 
The aquavitae (uisge-rbeathaj or real highland whisky, 
is a liquor as superior to the vile stuff of the large distil- 
leries, as champaign is to cyder. The former is distilled 
drop by drop ; the latter is run off with an incredible ra- 
pidity ; the former is the pure essence of fermented bar- 
ley ; the latter, the hasty product of ill-fermented graia 
««*o jnu9h liquid flre of the worst quality. 






See beauteous Noina, &c.t— P. 93. 
Taom Noineany a daisy, 

The skilful Leigh, &c— P. 94. 
Leigh j Leech, or physician. I have met with some 
of the kerb-doctors (as some call them) of the Grampian 
mountains, possessed of no small share of practical know- 
ledge in the healing art ; and of sufficient modesty and 
candour to acknowledge their want of science, which 
they frequently lamented ; but for want of opportunity 
knew not how to acquire. It seems, however, that the 
works of Greek, Roman, and Arabian physicians were 
currently known to the practitioners of the Hebrides many 
ages since : Martin notices this circumstance in his De- 
scription of the Western Island^, thus : — " Fergus 
" Beaton hath the following ancient Irish. manuscripts 
" in the Irish character 5 to wit, Avicenm, Averroes^ 


u Joannes de Vigo, Bernardus Gordonus, and several vo* 
« lumes of Hyppocrates" (P. 89.) * 

3 . 

The hoary Cromleac, &c. — P. 94. 
Cromleach, from crom, bending, and leac, a broad 
flat stone ; hence, Cromleac is said to mean bending- 
Btone, or bowing- stone, and supposed of Druidical origin; 
and it is, by some antiquaries, deemed a kind of altar, at 
which the worshippers bowed the head, or prostrated 
* themselves in adoration to the gods of the ancient Britons, 
Irish, and Scoto-Gael. (Vide Rowland's Antiquities of 
Mona or Isle of Anglesey, " Second Essay ;" Art* 
" Cromleghe." See also, Toland's History of the 
Druids, the Second Letter, Sect. XIV. Vol. I. p. 96. 
See likewise Gaelic Antiquities by Macpherson, and 
Smith of Campbeltown.) It were endless, as dull, or, 
to most readers, uninteresting, to enter on the doubts en- 
tertained respecting the Druidical remains in Great Bri- 
tain. It is a well known fact, that in Scandinavia, and 
Iceland^ they have their remains of ancient worship, si- 
milar in many respects to those of Great Britain, Ireland, 
Mona, Man, and others of the western isles ; as also in 
Orkney, Shetland, and Foeroe islands, which anciently 
.were subject to the northern princes. (Vide Northern 
Antiquities^ or Mallet's Introduction a VHtstoirede Den- 
marc, &c, translated by Dr Percy, Bishop of Dromose.) 
In truth it is no easy matter to separate the prejudices of 
jnen in favour of a particular hypothesis, and the leading 
facts that are brought as it were to prop the supposititious 
fystem, which each zealously yupppitf with imposing 

argument; Thug, for example : The circles, obelisks, 
and cromleacs> referred to times of Druidical worship, are 
considered by. Charlton as of Danish origin ; and by 
the celebrated architect Inigo Jones as works qf the 
ancient Romans, when our islhnd was a province of 
Rome. (Vide Charlton's t€ Stone-hedge restored to the 
"Danes:" and also, Inigo Jones's " Stone-hedge re- 
" stored /e the Romans. J" 

On Nbina's lap, ofCor-rneilles' knobby strings. — P. 94. 
Cor-meille {probus tuberosus. Lin.) cormylc, or 
wood-pease, is very universally indigenous to woods/ 
heaths, and elevated ranges of pasture ; the roots run 
horizontally near the surface, and consist of slender tough 
fibres, of a dirk -brown, or blackish colour, swelling into 
many knobs or tubercles, of various size. The natives 
collect the roots of the cor-meille in considerable quan- 
tity, dry and chew them, as a great delicacy ; their taste 
resembles that of liquorice, but it is neither so luscious, 
nor so juicy. 


And mountain bur-dtick, &c — P. 95. 

As I have specified a few of the simples of the Materia 
Medica of our self-taught physicians, I shall notice them 
them in order. 

P. 95. /. 7. Dwarf Myrtle (Myrica. Lin,) or 
Dutch myrtle, gole, goule, sweet willow, gaul, or what 
the Gael call roid, grows in bogs, and heathy wastes' 
throughout the- Hebrides and Grampians, in great abun / 


dance. This shrub seldom grows above two or at most 
three feet high. I have seen specimens, however, upwards 
of four feet : its leaves resemble those of the myrtle, 
and it buds in a similar manner at the extremities of its 
slender twigs : the catkins are of an oval form, of a bright 
brownish colour, and are often covered with resinous 
particles of a glittering appearance/ as if sprinkled with 
gold- filings, its seed- envelope, or pericarphium, is a 
berry of leather-like consistence. The leaves are of very 
fragrant ardour, but of a very bitter taste ; an infusion of* 
them is often made^ which is reckoned salutary in worm 
cases, and taken frequently with considerable advantage. 
This plant was formerly used instead of hops in brewing 
ale and small beer. In Sweden, the inhabitants use it t* 
dye yarn of a yellow colour. 

P. 95. /. 11. Tormentil (tormentilki. Lin.) sept* 
foil, or what the highlanders call bar-braonan-nan-con, 
is found in profusion among the sterile wastes of the 
Grampians and heaths of the Western Isles. It is pe- 
rennial and flowers in summer; it grows upright; its 
stalks are slender, its leaves oblong and indented toward 
the extremity ; the smaller branches bear on the tops a 
small flower of a yellow colour, which fades and falls off 
when the seeds appear, and soon ripen. The root of the 
tormentil is the part used both in medicine and the arts. 
It is generally thick, knobby, and crooked, covered with 
tt blackish skin, hut reddish when taken off; the juice, 
which is of the same tinge, is of an astringent nature, and 
contains 'the tanning .principle, equal in quality to that of 
the oaM>ark, The islanders of the 4Sbud® and Orkneys 


, 3^ it greatly in the process of tanning their leather. The 
*K)t of this plant still retains a place in our Materia Me- 
*ica, and is deemed an astringent of considerable efficacy 
** cases of diarrhea and dysentery. The German physi- 
-*3ns were wont to use tormentilla with bitters as.a sub-» 
l ^itute for bark in the cure of interim ttants, small-pox, 
*nd other diseases of debility. It is given in decoction, 
*ud gives out its astringent particles very readily to spirit 
^f wine, and even pure water. 

P. 95. L 12. Spearwort (ranunculus jlammula. 
Lin.) or lesser water crow -foot, known to the natives of 
the Grampians and Isles by the name Glais-leun y agus, 
an hus-mor ; this is an aquatic, and grows on the sides 
of lakes* lesser collections of water, and moist grounds ; 
It flowers also in summer. Its stalks are procumbent 
at the base, but branch erectly ; its leaves aire of a spear- 
like or rather eliptical form, but narrow, and of a thick 
firm, smooth texture, but vary in appearance, according 
to local circumstances ; the flower is small, and of a yel- 
low colour* The taste of this plant (roots and leaves) is 
very acrid; the highlanders bruise it and apply it thus 
externally by way of blister, and it is found one of the 
most caustic vesicatories known, canthardis not excepted. 

P, 05. I. 13, Groundsel (senecio vulgaris. Lin») 
or as it is called in Gaelic, am hualan, is a very common 
annual in dry waste places. It is an annual, but of 
short duration, for it springs, flourishes, seeds, fades, and 
dies, in little more than thirteen weeks. The stalks of the 
groupdsel seldom exceed twelve inches in height, are 


erect, branched, and thick, and full of sap ; the leaves 
are of a vivid green, oblong and narrow, covered on the 
under side with a whitish down, subdivided into serated I 
sections, and are broadest at their base or junction with 
the branches, at the summits of which the flowers, of a 
fine yellow colour, grow in clusters ; the seeds are small, 
of an egg-like shape, furrowed, and furnished with downy 
wings, which bear them to a distance when separated 
from the parent plant. The leaves of the groundsel wag 
formerly used as a mild emetic, or nauseating dose 5 the 
Gael use it still externally as a refrigerant, and it is in- 
nocent; enough in that way, 

P. 95. L 14. Eye-bright (euphrasia officinalis, lln.) 
or as the highlanders call it, rein-an-ruisg. It is an an- ' ' 
nual, and flowers in summer, and even autumn; it 
abounds in barren, dry places, and is a low plant, seldom 
exceeding six inches in heigh th; it grows erect, and 
branched ; its leaves are oval, small, and serated, towards 
the extremities of the stalks appear the flowers, of a deli- 
cate white, beautifully streaked internally with purple and 
yellow ; its seeds come forth at the capsula, and are of a 
whitish cast. This plant, among the older physicians, 
was deemed a never-failing remedy for impaired vision, 
and for sore eyes an absolute specific. Alas ! that there 
were not a hundred others of the like efficacy ! The high- 
landers still use it, and prepare an infusion of the leaves 
in milk, which with a feather is laid gently on the pa- 
tient's eye-lids; if he recovers, the credit of the doc- r 
tor is thereby enhanced ; and if not, how can the doctor 


help it ? toiwil^eye haih the greater power-consequent - 
\y > human, skill is inefficacious* 

P. 95. I. 15. Milfoil (achillcea millifolium. Lin.) 
or yarrow ', called by the Gael, lus chosgadh-nafola, agvs 
a'chaithir-thal-mhain. It is a perennial plant, and grows 
plentifully in arid pastures, and byway-sides. The mil* 
foil is in flower the most of summer ; its stalk is about 
twelve inches high, erect and branching ; the leaves are 
long, narrow, stiff, and smooth ; the flowers appear in 
form of an umbel on the pinnacle of the stalk, are slen- 
der and multiform, of a pale yellow, or of an orange cast, 
inclining to red ; the seed is small, oblong, and sometimes 
crooked, or compressed. It is still used by our herb- 
doctors as a styptic, in hemorrhage, or to dry up wounds. 
The followers of Sthal were in the habit of prescribing 
the leaves of the yarrow in cases of diarrhoea, and hypo j 

P. Q5. /. 15. Clubmoss (lycopodium selago. Lin.) 
or fir-club-moss, called by* our highlanders, carbhag-an- 
> seslh. It is an alpine plant, and found in abundance on 
the tops of the mountains. It is of a low, trailing 
growth ; its branches divided in pairs from two to six in- 
ches in heighth ; its leaves are imbricated, stiff, and lan- 
ceolate j it emits a fine yellow powder from its capsules, 
or seed-cells, which, according to the sexual system of 
Linnaeus, are supposed to belong to the male. An in- 
fusion of this herb is one of the most drastic emetics and 
cathartics known. The highlanders still use it ; but an 
©vex-dose is extremely deliterious, and often proves fatal. 


P. 95. 1. 16. Lovage (ligustkum Scoticum) Or Scot- 
tish parsley, called siunas by the Gael. It is a tall ele- 
gant umbelliferous plant, very common throughout the 
Grampian hills, Western Islands, and almost every part 
of North Britain. It requires no description. It is rec- 
koned carminative, particularly in female complaints ; 
its taste is warm, and resembles that of angelica, but not 
so delicate in point of flavour. 

P. 95.1. 17. Rose wort (rkodiola resea. Lin.) or 
rose-root, lus-nan-laogh, as the Gael call it, grows on 
the almost bare pinnacles of our highest hills. It flou- 
rishes in the latter end of spring, or beginning of sum- 
mer* Its stalk is erect, and without branches ; its leaves 
are serated ; at the top of the stalk the flowers come forth 
in umbels, and are small, and of a yellow colour. The" 
roots of this alpine plant, when recent, has little or no 
smell ; but when kept for any length of time, and pro- 
perly dried, its odour becomes exceedingly pleasant, and 
very similar to that of roses ; hence its name rosewvrt. 
A poultice of the fresh roots of this herb, when applied to 
the temples, is said to give speedy relief in cases of severe 
head-ach ; it is also used as a cataplasm to ulcers of an 
obstinate nature ; but with what success, in either case, 
I am unable to say. 

P. 95. I. 18. Fox-glove (digitalis purpurea. Lin.) 
or purple fox-glove, called by the Gael, tneuran sith. I 
tiave frequently witnessed the happy effects of this me- 
dicine in almost hopeless cases of dropsy, particularly, 
when the extremities were greatly disended with the> 


Morbid fltrid, attended with the usual symptom*, difficul- 
ty of breathing, *nd insatiable thirst. 

* Bolster'd with down, amid -a thousand wants, 

* Pale dropsy rears his bloated form, and pants ; 

€C — Quench me, ye cool pellucid rills \" he cries, 

* Wets his parch'd tongue, and rolls his hollow eyes, 
€ — Divine Hygeia, from the bending sky 

€ Descending, listens to his piercing cry, 
c Assumes bright Digitalis 9 dress and air, 
c Her ruby cheek, white neck, and raven hair ; 

* Four youths protect her from the. circling throng, 
€ And like the nymph the goddess steps along. 

* O'er him she waves her serpent-wreathed wand, 
€ Cheers with her voice, and raises with her hand, 
€ Warms with re-kindling bloom his visage wan, 

* And charms the shapeless monster into man/ 


The lateDr Erasmus Darwin, so dear to science and the 
Muses, did in the year 1780 communicate to the pub- 
lic the result of some experiments (made by his lament- 
ed son Charles) on mucilaginous and purulent matter, in 
which a, theory of the effects of fox-glove is attempted 
with singular ingenuity. The use of this plant, in pul- 
monary consumption, was brought into notice by the 
same illustrious character in the year 1765 (vide Medical 
Transactions, Vol. III.) the late Dr Withering, and 
likewise Sir George Baker, gave ample testimony of its 
efficacy in different diseases, particularly with respect to 
its powerful sedative qualities. I have known it reduce* 


(he beat of the heart and arteries from 120 to 43 in a mi 1 
nute; and I have heard of a still lower reduction. I un- 
derstand that my fellow -student Doctor Richard Fowler, 
has been very successful in prescribing digitalis purpurea 
in pulmonary complaints : plasters of the leaves of digita- 
lis applied warm to parts affected, give immediate relief. 
Fox-glove is a very beautiful plant; it delights in arid 
soils, and grows on the sides of hills, in woods, or on 
heath-clad wastes. The leaves of this valuable plant are 
lanceform ; its stalk erect and unbranched, from which, 
on one side, impend its thimble-like flowers, of a purble 
colour, prettily spotted within. When cultivated in the 
garden, the flowers of fox-glove assume various colours, 
and some are of a pure white ; it is biennial, and flowers 
in summer and great part of autumn. 

P. 95. I. 20. Gentian fgentiana campestris. Lin.) 
or bearded gentian, called in Gaelic, lus-a* -chrubain* • 
This plant is found on elevated grounds in most districts 
of the Grampians. Its stalk is unbranched and jointed, 
from which issue u\ pairs oblong pointed leaves, from 
the bosom of which the flowers come forth, sometimes 
white, sometimes of ft pale yellow, and sometimes of a 
purple colour ; it is perennial, and blooms in summer. 
The root is the part used, and is deemed one of the best 
stomachics known ; in truth the various species of gen- 
tian are not only freely used in medical prescription, but 
the brewer and wine-merchant are most familiar with its 
good qualities. 

P. 95. I. 21, Orchis (orchis maculata. Lin.) Bat- 


'erry, or female-handed orchis, by the highlanders called 

m urach bhallack. It grows in great abundance on moor* 

nd hilly pastures. The various species of the orchis are 

q well known as to require no description in this place* 

t is from the roots of that variety of the orchis called df**U*4 

vale-fool-stone, long purple, or dead-men' s-jingers 9 that 

he salep or salleb of shops is made. This substance is 

leemed highly nourishing, and salutary as an article of 

bod for persons of debilitated habits, or weak powers of 

ligestion. This species of the orchis is found most fret 

[uently in woods, or on sheltered spots. 

P. 95. I. 22. Burdock (arctium lappa. Lin.) cal- 
sd by our highlanders suircean suirich, mac-an-dogha. 
die burdock is so universally known as to render des- 
cription unnecessary. It is an esculent, and nutritious 
egetable, and in times of general scarcity might serve 
ery well as an excellent species of food. Burdock was 
t one time very freely used in medical prescription. It 
1 at present, however, much neglected. But, as already 
inted, this vegetable might certainly be brought into ge- 
eral use, when other more generous articles of food are 
zanty, especially in times of severe scarcity. It is truly 
ston^shing what miseries people will suffer While famine 
Ares them in the face ; when in truth, were they to look 
xmtthem, and make use of this plant, for example, and 
lany others besides, such as the orchis-root, sorrel, mal- 
>ws, fern-roots, &c. the wants of nature might thus he 


So long as sable rocks rear rich sea-plants.— rP>. 96. 
It would far exceed the limits prescribed to these short 


notices, to enumerate even the different species of algw 
found on the shores of the main-land, and those of the 
islands of North Britain : for a particular account, there- 
fore, of these, I must refer the botanical reader to that ex- 
cellent work, Lightfoot's Flora Scotica ; in which much 
valuable information is to be found respecting the plants 
of this section of our island, particularly those indigenous 
to the Hebrides and Grampian hills. The eatable sorts 
of sea-plants are dulse (fucus palmatusj, pepper-dulse, 
ffucufi pinnatifidusj badderlocks, (fucus esculentus) and 
many others. Cattle are very fond of sea-ware^ and feed 
on it with great avidity, 


The lichen's dyes, &c. — P. 96. 
Among other vegetable substances used by the Gael 
in their art of dying, are the two species of the lichen 
kind called Corcar, (liclien tartareusj large yellow- 
*aucer!d dyer's lichen ; and Crotal (lichen omphalodesj 
cork or arcell, dark purple dyer's lichen. There ire va- 
rious other plants used for that purpose, such as madder, 
white-thorn, heath-buds, &c. by means of which they 
dye their tartan plaids, hose, and other articles of apparel. 



The Yule of August o'er, &c. — 103 f 
€C Tip* first of August, or Lammas-day." Bailey's 
Diet* ftfr. *< The time of Christmas." Johnson's Diet. 
Sol. See a curious dissertation on the true origin of this 
festival, in Brand's observations on Bourne's Antiquitqtes 
Vulftares. Observ. ou chap, xiii. 



Three sister-lakes that in yon valley lie.^-P. 104. 
Namely, Loch-Lochy, Loch-Oich, and Loch-Ness, 
the latter of which is the largest lake in Britain, Loch- 
lomond excepted. The river Lochy issues frpm the first, 
and falls into Locheil (anciently Lochaber) an arm of the 
Atlantic ocean at Fort- William, about two miles beyond 
the ruins of Inverloehy-castle, once a fortlet of some 
strength, and which, according to tradition, was a royal 
residence in very remote ages. The middle lake, Oich, 
is the least of the three ; on its north margin are the ruins 
of the castlet Invergary. The river Oich runs about the 
distance. of two short miles, and falls into Loch-Ness at 
Fort- Augustus. From this latter lake issues die river 
Ness, and after a run little more than six miles, falls into 
the Moray-Frith, an arm of the German sea at Inverness, 
•the capital of Inverness-shire, a sheriffdom, at one time, 
the largest in Great Britain. The bed of those three 
Jakes, and the rivers that join them with the Eastern and 
Western oceans, is called the Great Glen of Scot- 
land, and is, from sea-arm to sea-arm, about sixty miles 
in extent. Lpch-Lochy, being 14 miles in length, Loch- 
Oich, 6, and Loch-Ness, 24 — in all 44 miles of still, 
deep water, besides the waters Ness, Oich, and Lochy, 
which are rapid in their courses, we have thus a chain of 
Jakes and rivers, bedded in this vast valley, admirably cal- 
culated for inland navigation ; which art, and compara- 
tively considered, small expence, might render fit for 
even frigates, East and West Indiamen, to pass from sc^r 
to sea, in their outward or homeward-bound passage jj' ' 
but of this, however, more hereafter, * 




That scoop (he Governs of the western shore. — P. 108. 

It is a well-known fact that, in the physical structure 
of the terraqueous globe, in general those parts which 
face the setting sun are the most elevated or mountain- 
ous ; and this is remarkably the case with respect to the 
western shores of Great Britain, the pinnacle of which 
is Benevis *, the highest mountain in the whole island. 
From the summit of this lofty eminence, the spectator 
can distinctly discern the German sea on the one hand, 
and the Atlantic ocean on the other, a vast eye-range of 
at least two hundred miles. And from the same station, 
many of the principal lakes, and most of the highest 
mountains of "the several districts of the Grampians, are . 
plainly seen, far and near, in the grand circle or natural 
horizon, commanded from the spot on which we thus 
stand. Three of those lakes, namely, Loch-Lochy, Loch- 
Oich, and Loch-Ness, are already mentioned, which are 
seen looking toward the north ; and turning to the east, 
Loch-Traig, Loch-Ossian, Loch- Lagan, and Loch-Ran- 
noch, come into view, with their towering mountains 
that bound them. In the same direction, the highest 
hills of Braidalbane in Perthshire present, the chief of 
which are Shichallion, Bein-Gloe, Ben-Loi, Bein-More, 
Bein-Lawers, Bein-Vourlich, Bein-Ledi, and other 
mountains of lesser note. Turning to the south-west, 
Benlomond is faintly discerned.; still more to westward, 
the mountains that frown in sterile magnificence over 
the dreary pass from the Black- Mount to Lochaber, 

* Benevis is 4370 feet above the level of the* sea, which washes its 
at Fort William. 


Glencoe, appear naked and bleak. Due west, the sub- . 
lime hills of Glenurchay are seen afar ; and still more re- 
mote, the hills of Jura, Mull, and Morven, are veiled in 
those delicate tints of azure that aerial perspective throws 
over distance when the atmosphere is unclouded and se- 
rene. Tracing the prospect in nearly the same westerly 
direction, but still nearer to the spot on which we stand, 
that enormous mass of lofty mountains, by way of distinc- 
tion, called the rough-bounds, heaves on the astonished 
sight. Beyond this chaos of rugged precipices, narrow 
vallies, lakes and inlets of the Atlantic, the Isle of Sky, 
and the greater number of the Hebrides, are situated j 
but, by reason of the hills being higher than any of the 
islands, they are thus hid from the sight. Looking to- 
ward the north, and north-east, the mountainous parts of 
Ross, Sutherland, and Caithness, are distinctly within 
.view. Due-east, the hills of Inverness, Murray, Banfl, 
and Aderdeen shires, arrest the eye ; the principal of 
which are, Cairn-gorm, and Coire-ghearich; the former 
remarkable for its rock-chrystal, called Cairn-gorums ; and 
the latter being the most dangerous pass into the Great 
Glen, or middle district of the Grampians, through which 
the Caledonian canal is about to be constructed. 


In sheds made permeable to the circling air*, — P. i 10* 
In situations where rain falls in torrents for many 
weeks almost without ceasing, the necessity of pro* 
viding against the ineonveniencies of climate, naturally 
suggests one obvious mode, and that is, sheds made per- 
meable at all times to a thorough circulation of air ; hence, 

a 3 


in most places wattled-barns of a rude construction are in 
general use along the west coast, for the reception of hay 
and corn-crops. The Duke of Argyle's barns, construct- 
ed on purpose to preserve the crops from the effects of rain, 
are certainly the most magnificent of the sort alluded to, 
in this section of Great Britain* 


As food these Alpine fruits were not design* d 
Fbrnwn—ltitfor the heath-lred winged kind. — P. 110. 
One ought to be very cautious how he indulges in eat-* 
ing any considerable quantity of moor-berries, more espe- 
cially crow-berries, as they are apt to induce affections of 
the stomach, and intestinal canal. 

The black-berries, heath, crow, or crake-berries, (empe* 
tram nigrum. Lin.) or faniaga, dearca-fithich, preas- 
nam-fantag, are very abundant throughout the Gram- 
pians in almost every variety of soil and situation : These 
require no particular description, being familiar to every 
one. Others of the moor-berries, such as red whortle- 
berries (tus-nam-lroileagj crane-berries, (muilcag) bill- 
berries (tus-nan-dearc) and greater bill-berries fdearca 
roidej were formerly abundant ; but since the sheep-sys- 
tem so universally prevailed, those various species of al- 
pine berries have greatly decayed ; and in many districts 
totally disappeared. And I am sorry to observe, that 
what I have called the " mountain-mulberries," cloud- 
berries (lus-nan-eighreagj or knout-berries, have within 
my own remembrance become extremely rare ; indeed so 
much so, that for these last five years I have hardly been 
able to gather a handful at a time. This plant is truly 


alpine, seldom if ever found below the midway emin- 
ences. sc This plant," says Lightfoot, (viz, rubus chamce- 
tnorus) " is dicedous above ground, but, according to a 
"curious observation of Dr Solandsr, the roots of the 
ec male and female unite together under the earth, so as 
t€ to render the plant truly monacious ," (Flora Scotica, fam* 
Vol. I. p. 266.) The berry itself has much the appear* 
ance, and nearly the size of a mulberry ; and when fully 
ripe, is pellucid^ and of a delicate red colour on one side, 
and shading into an orange or pale yellow on the otner. 

tn drUgs deal sparingly — hit nUrse with care.— P. ill. 
I am satisfied in my own mind, from what I have learn- 
ed from experience and observation, and the conversation 
of herdsmen, shepherds, and storemasters of sound judg- 
ment and knowledge in live-stock, that t€ doctoring-up," 
{to use a homely phrase) sheep, or black-cattle, is a 
pretty sure way of getting rid of the diseased, and of in- 
juring others that might soon recover of the herds or flock. 
Doubtless, there are some maladies incident to live-stock, 
which are within the reach of ordinary remedies ; but, 
healthful ranges of pasture, sufficient room, care and at- 
tention during the critical changes, particularly lambing- 
time, dotting, or castrating the males, weaning the young, 
proper management immediately prior to, and during the 
rutting season ; together with sufficient provender, and 
sheltered ranges for winter, and the earlier part of spring, 
are the principal safeguards, or preventatives, so to ex- 
press it, of disease ; consequently drugs will be easily 
dispensed with ; or, if at all used, will be dealt out with a 


sparing hand. Let it not be understood, however, that I am 
an enemy to all attempts in healing diseased quadrupeds 
of the domestic sorts ; I am only hinting at the indiscri- 
minate use of medicines, and unskilful modes of opera-, 
tion, which injure the flocks and herds more, than leaving 
the cure, in a great measure* to its natural course. Nay, 
it is no contradiction when I say, that many of those 
diseases that afflict cattle, are frequently cured by art > by 
which means many are saved that otherwise would pe- 
rish "by being any time neglected. But still, I say, very 
great caution is necessary ; and when skill is wanting, 
better leave the issue to nature. I observe, in the " Prize 
" Essays and Transactions of the Highland Society of 
" Scotland," some judicious observations by my friend 
Mr Macnab qflnishewan, concerning " the economy of 
" black-cattle farms under a breeding- stock." Vol. II. 
p. 904. And also some interesting observations on the 
same subject by Mr Stewart, chamberlain to the Duke 
of Argyle in Kintyre* Ibid. p. 212. And those obser- 
vations, I can freely say, are worthy the consideration of 
every one interested in the management of live-stock or 
store- farm. 


The feeble », trembling firstlings forth may bring.— ¥. 112. 
It is of infinite moment to hit the time with nicety, 
when the males are in season for the sexual intercourse 
with the females of the flock. About the middle of Oc- 
tober, bring down the whole flock to the lower ranges of 
pasture, which ought if possible to consist of short, thick, 
rich grass, and the more mixt with daisies, and natural 


clover, so much the better. Keep them in the lower 
grounds, except in fine mild sun-shine weather, when 
they may ascend occasionally the heights. Separate the 
rams from the ewes ; and keep them carefully apart .on 
the very richest of the grazings till about the middle of 
.November, or perhaps a week later : then suffer them tp 
associate with the ewes, and leave them to pursue the 
bent of instinct, till they separate of their own accord, 
which generally happens at the end of five or six week$ 
from the time they were permitted to associate, when the 
males retire*, and naturally resort to the range where they 
fed previous to their visit to the females of the flock. 
The careful shepherd will not fail to keep a continual eye 
on the ewes ; as they are very prone to wander, and by 
this means very frequently miss meeting the rams in rut- 
ting-time. When matters are thus well ordered, the 
ewes may reasonably be expected to drop their lambs in 
due season, which usually happens about the end of March 
or beginning of April. I have heard much of a ram- 
park, or tup-inclosure. I am convinced, however, that 
unless such a park be very extensive, it were better, upon 
the whole, to keep the males in such a pasture-range as 
that already described, in order that each may feed as 
much at large as possible. Sheep feed very constantly; 
and require the most profound quiet and uninterrupted 
repose, in all their haunts and habitudes. 


To smearing salve by some may he preferred — P. 112. 
It is believed, and I think with good reason, that 
mearing sheep, which as Dyer elegantly expresses it, 


€< , The mark dilates, 

<c Enters the flake depreciated, defil , d > 
" Unfit for beauteous tint." 

? The Fleece, Book II. 

Will soon be discontinued amongst intelligent and experi- 
enced shepherds* Were the native breed of sheep but 
once restored and propagated, it is pretty certain that salv- 
ing, or smearing, would be found unnecessary, conse- 
quently laid aside ; or, if any operation of that sort be 
found needful, in order to kill vermin, the juice, or ex- 
tract of tobacco, (pettam, vel nicotiana), mixed with stale 
urine, is found to answer that particular purpose very well. 
. Sixteen pounds of tobacco-extract, with a proportionate 
quantity of urine, will wash five score of sheep ; by this 
means the purpose is sufficiently answered, and the fleeces 
are free from filthy smearing- salve, that greatly defiles 
and consequently depreciates the wool. The smearing, 
or washing with tobacco -juice, is generally performed 
sometime before the rutting-season ; or perhaps it is bet- 
ter to do so immediately after you have draughted, sepa- 
rated, and sold off those destined for the sheep-drover. 
The marks of a proper ram, are, along, straight back, 
and pretty broad at shoulders, short neck, and rough face : 
short legs, round and thick in the body ; his tail long and 
bushy : — The marks of a proper ewe are nearly the same 
of the ram of the same breed. Rams may serve the flock 
from one till four years old ; they thus may be kept three 
seasons, and no more ; change, and observe the same 
economy in this matter. 



The lofty ash, whose leaf buds last in spring.— -P. 11 4* 
The Ash, (jfaxinus excelspr. lAn.) called in Gaelic,/^, 
ninsion, is so well known a tree as to render description un- 
necessary ; its leaves come forth the latest, and fall the ear-* 
liest of any of the forest trees indigenous to this island. 
Si This tree/' (the ash) says Evelyn, ff with us is reput- 
" ed male and female, the one affecting the higher 
" grounds, and the other the plains, and rising many 
<c times to a prodigious stature, so as in forty years from 
u the key, an ash hath been sold for thirty pounds ster- 
" ling. And I have been credibly informed," continues 
this ingenious writer and accomplished gentleman, " that 
€( one person hath planted so much of this one sort of 
i€ timber in his life-time, as hath been valued worth fifty 
€€ thousand pounds to be bought;" a vast sum in those 
days, i. e. about a hundred and forty years since. ^ These 
€< are pretty encouragements," adds our author, u for a 
u small and pleasant industry." (Vide Evelyn's Sylva, 
or a Discourse on Forest Trees ; with Hunter's notes, 
York, printed in the year 1776, 4to. ; the first edition 
was printed in the year 1664, folio.) The other trees 
specified in the passage that gives origin to this note, are 
all indigenous to the Grampians, &nd are so well known 
as to heed no description in this place* 


The crow of sable hood and mantle grey. 
Caws lonely on the kill at close of day.-— P. 1 15. 
The Hooded Chow, or feanag, (Gaelic) " continues 
" in Scotland the whole year j the only species in the is- 



tc lands, and great part of the highlands'; keeps in pairs* 
" except foftsome time after the breeding season, is most 
" affectionate to its mate : one that had been shot was 
u hung by the legs on a tree, not remote from the ne9t ; 
■ €€ its companion, after a short absence, returned, and 
t€ perched over the dead body, observed it attentively, as 
" if expecting its revival ; at length in a windy day, the 
" corps being put in motion, and sometimes swung quite 
" horizontally, the surviving bird, deceived by the mo- 
u tion, descended to it, kept fluttering by it for a consi- 
" derable time, endeavouring to assist in its release, utter- 
" ing a melancholy scream ; till finding all its attempts 
" in vain, at length retired, without ever returning to its 
tc usual haunts." Penn. Brit. Zool. 

Now shrilly clear, full, and loud and louder swells 
Aloft the music of the feast of shells.— P. 118. 
It would far exceed the limits necessarily prescribed te 
these notes, to enter into a full description of the music 
and poetry peculiar to the Gael ; and as I have elsewhere 
communicated my thoughts on this subject at consider- 
able length, particularly in a preliminary discourse to my 
" Introduction to the History of Poetry in Scotland," 
(Edinburgh, printed in the year 1798,) I beg leave to 
refer the reader, curious on this head, to what I have there 

Excite emotions various as the theme. — P. 1 lO. 
Collins' s celebrated ode on the superstitions of the 
highlands, displays some fine characteristic sketches, 


^ldfy yet delicately touched by the magic pencil of a 
m *ster ; and had he lived to fill up his admirable outline 
w Uh due breadth of light and shade, what a noble piece 
w Ould not the poetical world have been enriched with ! 

u Omnes eodem : omnium 

f( Versatur urna serius ocius 

€f Sors exitura, Horace* 

The lot, alas ! of poor Collins came forth at an early pe- 
riod of life indeed. The late Dr Samuel Johnson, the 
learned biographer of Collins, it is well known, was in 
no small degree credulous in the superstitions of the vul- 
gar ; and, as if fate had decreed that a mind, capacious 
as Johnson's, should contain, among great riches of in- 
tellect, some particles of lesser value, in order, as it were, 
to preserve that equality, even in mental wealth, perhaps 
necessary to the good of society, which otherwise might 
become more intolerable than the casual disparity among 
mankind that usually accompanies the goods of fortune, 
or adventitious titles. The apologists of Johnson's seem- 
ing weakness, have laboured hard to account for his be- 
lief in what is usually called " The Second Sight " (or. 
fore-sight rather) a peculiar faculty, or class of associa- 
tion of ideas, by which some individuals are said to fore- 
see an event about to take place \ that actually is passing ; 
or that in a very short interval of time shall surely hap- 
pen. But, it should be remembered, that, when a person 
once admits a thing possible, its probability is easily ad- 
missible ; and that what happened once, may happen 
once more ; nay may happen more than once again> — 


may, in truth, happen frequently. Now Dr Samuel 
Johnson was a sincere believer in the authenticity of that 
sacred volume which contains the early history of man- 
kind, the rule of human conduct, and the dogmas of our 
most holy religion ; in which inspired writings he found 
various relations of dreams or visions of the night, appa- 
ritions, and many remarkable passages respecting the 
prophets, seers, saints, evil-spirits, devils, witches, &c. 
by no means to. be called in question by sceptics, who 
are generally the most credulous of men in things that 
tend to establish their own principles. Dr Johnson was 
not to barter his soul's salvation in doubting aught that 
was written for our instruction by the inspired penman ; 
and he was aware that what happened once, might 
happen again ; and what might again happen at any 
one time, for ought he knew to the contrary, might 
exist at that very moment ; and in the particular in- 
stance alluded to, namely, /* The Second Sight/ 9 he 
had had the testimony, as he himself affirms, of a 
cloud of witnesses, who declared unto him the things 
they had seen and heard respecting this wonderful far 
culty of certain individuals then living. And the re- 
sult of his enquiries he sums up in a few words: 
€i \ never could advance my curiosity," says he, " to 
4< conviction ; but came away at last only willing to 
" believe/' And in a preceding paragraph, he says, 
9 * where we are unable to decide by antecendent reason, 
4€ we must be content to yield to the force of testimony." 
(Vide (( A Journey to the fVestern Islands of Scotland.)" 
For a particular account of second sight, elf-shot, evil-eye) 


>s, late-tvahe-feats, Benshi-cry, &c, I must refer the 
r to the writings of Johnson, Pennant, Martin^ 
d, Bourne, and others who have expressly treated 
ose curious remains of vulgar superstition. See al- 
e superstitious rites of the Lowland Scots poetically 
id by Ramsay, Bums, and others^ with great spirit 






A cask ofwkisky strong, the victor's prize. — P. 124. 

The rural sports and pastimes of the Gael are fast 
hastening into disuetude. Of the very few of those gym- 
nastic exercises that still remain, wrestling, putting the 
stone, and shinny, or shinty, (creatan) are practised oc- 
casionally. The latter exercise, of which I have attempt- 
ed a description, is by far the most active and arduous of 
our rural pastimes. Shinny is a game performed with a 
wooden ball, and sticks or clubs crooked at one of the 
extremities, for the purpose of hitting the ball with more 
address and certainty : There may be as many of a side as 
can conveniently be collected from the neighbouring 
glens ; and the prize was wont to be a cask of highland 
whisky ; which when won by either side, was liberally 
shared, till the last drop was drank by the contenders. 
This diversion, however, has within these last twenty 
years been left to school-boys or others of the same age; 
and is as much in vogue in the lowland districts, as with- 


he boundaries of the Grampian hills. Raffles, op 
►ting-matches, are now the favourite sports of the 
landers, .which serve generally as preludes to serious 
Icing : And I am sorry to say that many have fallen 
habits most unworthy of their character for sobriety, 
particularly, since the innocent mirth and rural fes- 
* of former times have so much declined ; the young 
, too, have become greatly attached to card-playing ; 
zumstance the more to be lamented, as it not only 
jmes their winter-evenings leisure, but also fosters 
rit of low avarice, so incompatible with those virtues 
ought ever to adorn our peasantry, and such as are 
jed in the humble, yet honourable employments of 
eld and fold, throughout the empire, 


hall resounds high mirth and cordial glee. — P. 127.' 
.though I have specified some of the dishes peculiar 
highland feast, yet some, or rather the whole, are- 
non to every part of Scotland, and to many parts, I 
>ld, of the north of England* 


Charmless mirlhinspires the dance and song. ^-P. 128. 
iave prepared for this note some curious particulars 
cting our highland dances, which I trust will not 
: altogether uninteresting to the generality of my 
rs. And in order to illustrate this part of our sub- 
/ith some effect, it may be here proper to give a very 
, sketch of the agreeable and universal exercise of 
ng, from, pretty remote ages to the present day; and 


in different sections of the habitable globe. Music, and 
dancing, it is reasonable to suppose, must have existed in 
the rudest and most remote ages, or rather, most likely, 
coeval with society itself. In proof of this supposition, 
all our circumnavigators tell us> that music and dancing 
are common to the natives of America and the South- 
sea islands ; many nations among whom excel in dan- 
cing in a wonderful degree. To say nothing of the an- 
cient Assyrians, Persians, and Egyptians, with respect to 
dancing, which doubtless was one of their favourite ex** 
ercises, in all probability coeval with those vast empires, 
it will answer the present purpose to touch briefly cm the 
practice of dancing among the anciept Jews, Greeks^ and 
Romans. We learn from the sacred historian, that 
€( when David was returned from the slaughter of the 
€ * Philistines, that the women came out of the cities of 
€C Israel, singing and dancing, to meet king Saul, with 
t€ tabrets, with joy, and with instruments of music." 
(1 Samuel, chap, xviii, v.. 6.) And we find that after 
David had asoehded the throne, when he went with all 
his people " from Baale to Judah, to bring from thence 
" the ark of God/' that " David and all the house of Is- 
* € rael played before the Lord on all manner of instru- 
" ment& made of fir- wood, even on harps, and on psal- 
" teries, and on timbrels, and cornets, and on cymbals ; 
" and David danced before the Lord with all his might;" 
but it should seem, however, that this capering before 
the Lord gave mighty offence to David's spouse Michal, 
the daughter of the late king Saul, for it is written, " and 
€€ as the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, 
" Michal, Saul's daughter., looking through a window,, 


* saw king David leaping and dancing before the Lord j 
" and she despised him in her heart." And she thus 
addressed her lord and master : " How glorious was the 
S€ king of Israel to-day, who uncovered himself to-day 
t€ in the eyes of the handmaids of his servants, as one of 
" the vdin fellovVs shamelessly uncovereth himself !" 
(9 Samuel, chap. vi. v.v* 14 and 20.) We also read in 
the sacred volume, that many ages after, when €C the 
" sceptre had departed from Judah," and the Romans 
were in possession of Palestine, dancing was one of the 
chief amusements of that eventful period. " And when 
€€ the day. was come," says St Mark in his Gospel, €€ that 
" Herodj on his birth-day, made a supper to his Lords, 
" high captains, and chief estates of Galilee. And when 
" the daughter of the said Herodias came in, and danced, 
" and pleased Herod, and them that sat with him, the 
" king said unto the damsel, ask of me whatever thou 
" wilt, and I will give it thee. And he sware unto her, 
€€ whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give it thee, 
" unto the half of my kingdom. And she went forth 
" and said unto her mother, What shall I ask ? And she 
" said, the bead of John the Baptist." A most extra- 
ordinary demand, truly ! and although the king was ve- 
ry loth td comply, and, as the sacred penman says, " was 
" exceeding sorry ; yet for his oath's sake, and for their 
" sakes which sat with him, he would not reject her; . 
" And immediately the king sent an executioner, and 
" commanded his head to be brought. And he went and 
"beheaded him in prison, and brought his head in a 
" charger, and gave it to the damsel ; and the damsel 
" gave it to her mother. (St Mark, chap. vi. v. Si.. tQ 



29.) We learn from ancient history, that the game* 
and festivals of the Greeks were uniformly graced with 
dances composed in honour of their object of adoration, 
or peculiar rites and ceremonies ; nay dancing was a fa* 
vourite exercise of their deities themselves ; hence pne of 
Apollo's titles is 'Orckiestes, the dancer, as Pindar, Ho- 
mer, and others, celebrate in their lyric compositions. 
The Thracians had their war-dances, as the skvages of 
America and other remote parts of the habitable globe 
have at this day. But although dancing was deemed 
worthy of countenance among persons of wisdom and 
honour in Greece, yet, when Cicero flourished, wanton 
and indecent dances were so much in fashion, that he de- 
crys the art with his usual eloquence. (C Nemo fere sal- 
" tat sulrius," says the orator, " nisi forte insanit ; ne»' 
" que in solitudine y neque in convivio hones to. In tern-' 
Ci pestivi conviviiy amoeni hci, multarum deliciarum comes 
" est exlrema, salvatio." (Orat. pro Mufaena.) But 
Rome, in her days of glory and decline, carried the pas-' 
sion for dramatic dancing to a pitch hardly exceeded by 
that of the present theatrical rage for the like entertain- 
ment, introduced in the Italian opera. It was toward the 
close of the fifteenth century, that this species of drama 
was first introduced at modern Rome in the pontificate of 
Sixtus IV. From Rome it spread gradually throughout 
the neighbouring provinces, states and empires, till at 
length it reached England; and has for nearly a century 
past been the favourite amusement of those who can re- 
lish all that music, poetry and paintings-grace, elegance, 
and grandeur of movement, — together with all that the 
iascinating expression of the human countenance, — caa 


;e convey. Notwithstanding the prevalance of the 
in Europe, we still find that national dances retain 
:e among the pastimes and pleasures of the vulgar, 
st, in defiance of refinement, and all its bewitching 
of allurements. Thus for example, in Spain, the 
ingo, and Les Follies d' Espagne, are still per- 
id with castinets. In Portugal thev have similar 
is. In France the conire-danees. In Flanders 
nuber of droll dances, — witness the paintings of the 
rs. In Naples, they still preserve a number of 
iar dances of a grotesque character. In Florence 
have similar dances of a rural cast. In Venice, 
have a favourite dance called Furlanda. The pea- 
of Tirol and of the Grisons, still preserve several 
ances. The Germans have their Waltz, and Aller 
e. The Hungarians, Poles, Russians, Cossacs, Tar- 
"Persians, Chinese, Indians, Arabians, Egyptians^ 
lumerous nations of Africa and America, have 
s day their national dances, which they preserve with 
ich care as they do many of their religious rites and 
tonies. And to bring the matter hcmie to our own 
Is, have not the inhabitants of Cornwal and Wales, 
tibse of the eastern shores, their peculiar dances ? 
ornpipe of the English, the Scottish-measure of the 
Wider s, the Reel of the Highlanders, and the Jig of the 
are still preserved, and danced with that life and 
peculiar to each nation or province to which those 
s belong. But, as the Scottish Highlanders are 
wledged by all to excel in those steps and figures 
Reels and Strathspeys, which they still exhibit with 
ivacity, firmness, grace, and agility,for which they 



$tt noted, I shall mention some particulars relative to 
those ; and shall also notice some others that are alluded 
to in the passage of the poem which gave origin to the 
present note. 

■ ■ And curious native airs of elder day* 

The violist with peculiar accent plays, 
Respondent too, now join the vocal throng, 
While moves the matron with droll step along. 

The variety of dances that in former times jnade part of 
the amusements or mirthful exercises of the Gad, may 
be divided into four classes. 1 . Dances of one performer. 
2. Dances of two. 3. Dances of three or more. 4. Dances 
of character or dramatic cast. 

Class 1 . A dance performed by one person, is, strictly 
considered, a sort of character, of consequence, in some 
measure dramatic, {fa female, the character assumed it 
a' CaUleach, or old wife; and the person who dances 
is dressed in a very grotesque stile, having a huge bunch 
of keys hanging by her apron-string, and a staff to sup- 
port her, for she affects to be very stiff, and latae of one 
leg. When the tune strikes up., she appears hardly able 
to hobble on the floor ; by degrees, however, she gets on 
a bit, and as she begins to warm, she feels new anima- 
tion, and capers away at a great rate, striking her pockets, 
and making her keys rattle; then affecting great import* 
ance as keeper of the good things of the store-room, am- 
pry, and dairy. Meanwhile some of the company present 
join the person who plays the tune, and sing words suit- 
able to the character the dancer assumes— generally some 


jQonsense of a comic cast with which the matron, 6r Cail- 
leach seems wonderfully delighted. Thenames of the tunes 
and words that I have heard played and sung to this dance, 
are : A 9 Sean Rong mhor, Cailleach an Durdan, Cailleach a 9 
Stopan-falaimh, and several others that I do not at present 
recollect. If it l)e a male dance, the individual personifies 
some droll character, and is fantastically dressed for the 
occasion; or perhaps assumes the appearance of a rustic, 
or day-labourer ; thus, for example, the dance called a 9 
Chraig Leith, is danced by one man with ajlaughtet- 
spade, who sings at the same time, telling how he fared 
after his day's darg, or labour. — Is this the same sort of 
dance mentioned in f4 The Complaynt of Scotland ," 
called " the speyde?" An Dubh-htidnach, is a grotesque 
dance performed by one person.^ Gille Callum da* 
pheigin, is generally danced by one man, who performs 
it with great address over a naked broad-sword laid on 
the floor ; this dance is sometimes danced by two, three # 
or four men, but when so done they do not reel> but on- 
ly change places. A 9 Cuthaich chaoil dulh, is a kind of 
wild fantastic dance that requires great strength and agi- 
lity to go through the various steps and movements, and 
is danced by one man. Fear Dtuim a Chairi, is also 
danced by one male only. 

Class 2. Dances of two, or twa-some dances, as they 
are called by the lowlandefs. These dances are perform- 
ed generally by a male and female, and have a remarkably 
agreeable effect when done with spirit and grace ; the 
couple are of the same age, and generally youthful ; the 
tunes played during the dance are various, ancJ changed 
at pleasure. 



Class 3. Arc reels and Strathspeys, and are so wcU 
known as to need no particular description. There is 
scarcely a scientific professor of dancing, that does not 
teach Scotch reels and Strathspeys with as much ease as 
^cotilions or country-dances ; but a living poetess, who 
has resided in Strathspey for the greater part of her life 
past, expresses archly her opinion of the fashionable ap- 
ing « with air constrained, the rural balls !" 

u The nymph that wont to trace the source of Tay, 
" Or lead the sprightly dance by rapid Spey, 
* c With conscious triumph smiles aside to see, 
^ This ( faint reflection of the rural glee ;' 
€( Short pleasure languid imitation feels, 
[ (f While polish'd courtiers pant in active reels." 


Class 4. Are of a dramatic cast, as already stated, such as 
Damhsa nam Boc (dance of the he-goats.) This dance 
is performed by three men, who reel fantastically, leap, 
bound and bleat as he-goats do; and stooping on all fours, 
they jump alternately over each other, causing by this 
means much merriment and laughter. Fidh an Gunn, 
(weave the gown) is generally danced by three persons, 
who set and reel, but who instead of doing so in the or- 
dinary manner, keep invariably their* faces one way. 
Damhsa an Cfdeoca, (the cloak-dance) is performed by 
one person (supposed to be a young gentleman who is 
returned from bis travels abroad) attended by his man- 
servant. The young laird comes in, as if newly arrived, 
)ooks round the company with seeming wonder, and af- 

ter rambling through the appartment while the tune is' 
playing, he all at once stops, throws off his mantle, plaid, 
or cloak, and away his staff, affecting at the same time 
considerable emotion j his servant, who is by, picks up 
the cloak and staff, and puts on the one, and places the 
other in his hand, endeavouring at the same time to quiet 
his master, who seems to be pacified, and foots it away 
again to the same tune, till he tires, and throws away his 
mantle and staff again ; which his man takes up, and 
presents them as before ; repeating the same several times, 
till at last the servant recollecting that he has a letter, he 
pulls it out of his pocket, and offers it to his young mas- 
ter, who says he is unable to read, owing to a phlegmon 
on his posteriors, which marvelously affects his eye-sight ! 
and that * * * *• Crait an Dreathan {the wren's croft) 
is danced by one man, who personifies a farmer. The 
character comes into the hal^ and begins with telling the 
story of his difficulties in labouring the farm of Crait an 
Dreathan ; he then stops short and desires the piper or 
fidler to play up the tune peculiar to the dance ; and then 
he dances the tune once over, and stops to relate more of 
the particulars of his story ; then renews the dance and so 
on. But in order to gratify the reader's curiosity, I shall 
here present him with the words of this comic perform- 
ance in the original, and subjoin a literal translation, in or- 
der that those who are unacquainted with the Gaelic, may 
form a clear notion of some of our national dances which 
are daily becoming obsolete, and will, in a very short 
time, be altogether unknown among the Gael, who are, 
either driven from their possessions, by a change of sys- 
tem^ or are changing with the varying hour, and will^ 


ere long, most likely cease to be a peculiar people, and 
sink to rise no more. But to return to our comic dance. 
The farmer of the wren's-croft comes in, and says ; 

Crait an Drzathan. The Wren's Croft. 

Blia mise roirn/i so mo thuan- I was formerly thefarm- 

ack, an Crait an Dreatkan: a- er of the Wren's Croft; 

gus ma hhdy ma 9 ta bha i dui- and if I was, indeed it 

leach treabha 9 . Bha igafia- was very difficult to la- 

dhaich balcaoh, clochack, car- bour; it was wild, balky, 

- nach, claon-foidach, ach du- stony, cairney, and the 

leach treabha mar blia i, tkreabh furrow ill to clear; yet 

mise i. difficult as it was, I la- 
boured it. 

Seid snas ! Blow up ! * 

2 2 

An deigh sin thainig hiidh^ After that there came a 

eann mhw, mhor saigheadoirin great company of soldiers 

jeabh na duicha, agus thug tad to the country, and they 

leabha mi, agus cha do stad iad forced me to join them ; 

learn riabh, gus an d* thainig and they never halted till 

iad cean Bhothel-brig. they brought me to Both- 
well -brig, 

Seid suas ! Blow up ! 

3 3 

Ach an tiair a biodh each ri But when therest would 

saighdearach, bhidhinsa anns na be soldiering, I would be 

peasarchan. always found among tha 

Seid suas ! Blow up ! 

* Here he dances the tone once over. 


Bha mi laeth'mach spaisdeir- I was one day out stroU * 

each, agus thachair truir bhain- ling, and I met three la- 

tighearnan orrn, and thug mi dies ; I pleased two of 

treis do d/iithis dibh, agus them, and I let the third 

suadha an treas te a ton re cnoc. * * * * 

Seidsuasi Blowup! 

% 3 5 

'Ntiair cha each tkun a bhlair, When the rest went to 
theasamh mifhein ami a 9 croabh thebattle,I myself stood in 
rnhar sgitbich a chunnaig mi a large thorn tree I saw o- 
thall, agus tharuing mi mho ver the way; and I drew 
chlaidhiomh, agus rhm mi mar my broad-sword, and I 
sud, agus mqr sud *• laid about me thus, thus, 

and so, so. 
Seid suas I . ... Blow up ! 

6 6 

'Nuar thainig me da-thigh, When I came home, my 

rhm Fionghol Dorm agam/hem own brunette Flora made 

an Cath-ta so damhf ; agus this tartan here ; and she 

chmri andeargan'cridhglmirm, put the red into the heart 

agusangorm an 9 crithe'n uaine 9 of the blue, and the blue 

agus cearsle dhufth na chearm into the heart of the green, 

deite, agus chaithe mi mar sud and a clue of black at the 

JTiein e. end, and I wear it as you 

now see. 
SM suas i Blow up ! 

* Here he draws his sword or stick commonly, and strikes at die legs anij 
shoulders of the company. 
, * Here he displays his plaid, hose, &o. 


7 T 

. An deigh sin, bha Crait an After that the Wren's 

T)reathan abaigh ; agus bhuain Croft was ripe ; and I 

mi i ; agus bha cearamh eorna cut down the crop ; and 

inn te, agus rinn mi cearamh I had a quarter of barley 

Irudhaist dheth, agus ma bha on it; of which I made a 

mi buidheach, bha; *s mar robh, quarter of brose ; and if 

leig dha ; — cha robh tulle ogam I was satisfied — well — if 

refaighinn. I were not — I had no 

more to get. 
Seidsuas! Blow up! 

m * 

The imperative < € seid suas," (blow up) is addressed to 
the musical performer, who is frequently a bag-piper, but 
oftener, (especially in the Braes ofAtholeJ a fidler, who 
generally plays his native airs with peculiar expression and 
effect j witness Niel Gow y to whose performance every one 
delights to dance, that has the good fortune to be of the party 
where he is invited to be presiding minstrel for the night. 

The violin, as well as thq highland-bagpipe, as it is im- 
properly called, are, comparatively speaking, but of re- 
cent introduction among the Gael. For the harp is the 
true instrument of Gaelic song, which we had of old in 
common with our brethren the Gael of Ireland, among 
whom the great bagpipe was never known. It often 
struck me, that neither Macpherson's Ossian, nor the' 
fragments which I have so frequently heard sung and re- 
hearsed, make any mention at all of that noisy instrument 
the bag-pipe ; but of the harp uniformly ; and it is cer- 
tain that the melodies which I haye heard sung to the 


songs of Ossian in the original, are by no means such as 
could be adapted to the bagpipe, but are perfectly fitted 
for the*harp ; and are of a character peculiarly plaintive> 
sometimes irregularly wild, yet still preserving a just and 
measured rythmus, very unlike the bagpipe pieces, ot 
the melodies of modern invention. This circumstance 
may startle some of the unbelievers in the authenticity of 
Ossian ; but what is here stated is truth ; and I believe my 
veracity was never called in, question by any one. I had 
often heard it said, that the great bagpipe, noisy, harsh, 
dissonant, and unfit for accompanying the voice of the 
bard, supplanted in hitter ages the harp, which lives only 
in our fragments of ancient poetry, now hastening into 
total neglect. It has beten supposed, and I think with good 
reason, that the pipe is of Scandinavian importation; and 
might have been brought either by the Norwegians, or 
Danes into the Western Islands, (or Sudr-eyiar as they 
called them) sometime after the year 900. Now what con*- ' 
firms in my mind the certainty of the large bagpipe being 
of Scandinavian origin, is, that in Strut's " Sports and' 
" Pastimes of the English" chap. v. there is the repre- 
sentation of a sword-dance, and therein is represented a 
figure playing on the bagpipe, precisely similar to that 
which our modern highland pipers play on, at that grand 
annual exhibition of ancient music in Edinburgh, under 
the auspices of the Highland Society of Scotland. And : 
in addition to this singular fact, I shall mention another 
equally strong as the former, and it is, that I have in my 
possession an original engraving by Albert Durer, of a 
figure playing on what is called the great highland lag- ' 
pipe, which figure has what is called a highlandman's 


purse on, and a dirk by his side, the very accompaniments 
of a full dressed piper, the pride and glory of our high- ' 
land chieftains at this day* ! Now as the Anglo-Saxons 
had their pipers, and the Flemings also their pipers, 
who played on a bagpipe exactly similar to that played 
on by our highland pipers ; — pray, Whether did the 
Anglo-Saxons, and Flemings, borrow that instrument of 
music from the Highlanders ; or the highlanders from the 
Flemings and Anglo-Saxons ? 

Maintained inviolate with an upright xeal.—P. 136. 

When civil and political liberty preserve steadily the 
bafcnce of public welfare ; then the fruits or produce of 
well-directed industry are guaranteed by the prudent ad- 
ministration of mild, salutary laws, and each individual 
may then rest assured of quietly enjoying the' convenien- 
ces and comforts that his agricultural, or mercantile spe- 
culations were reasonably calculated to place within his 
reach ; and thus will be maintained inviolate the lawful 
property of private persons, and at the same time, the 
commercial prosperity of the community at large will be 
supported with that upright zeal, which is truly charac- 
teristic of good government, and a wise just code of laws, 
the spirit of which gives vital energy to a sound consti- 

♦ I shall present this etching to the Faculty of Advocate*, Edinburgh, 
in whose possession it will hereafter be found, in order that any one donrous 
to see it, may be thus satisfied concerning the truth of the fact. 


5 . 
That each may duly claim the apportioned share. -—P. 130. 

I come now tosubmit to the reader's consideration, what 
I flatter myself wiH be found a practicable scheme for bet- 
tering the condition of small -fanners, and preserving the 
population suitable to the means of subsistence throughout 
the district of the Grampians and Western Isles. And 
I conceive the best means of doing so, is, by encouraging 
small farmers, and others of better condition, to associate 
in limited numbers, and invest their capital in a" Store- 
Farm by way of joint-stock ; the plan, and particulars 
respecting which, may be furnished from what I have 
actually put in practice, on a small scale, with the hap- 
piest effect, and manifest advantage to all concerned. 
But in order that my plan of joint-stock may be clearly 
understood ; and the benefits resulting therefrom distinct- 
ly apprehended, as not only practicable, but actually ex- 
isting at this- moment ; and which may be adopted uni- 
versally in similar situations, and under similar circum- 
stances, with substantial profit to the proprietor, as well 
as convenience and comfort to the tenant ; I shall briefly 
state the leading facts, and particulars concerning the 
scheme in question. 

During the absence of my son-in-law Captain Alex- 
ander M'Donell, 2d battalion Royals, when serving a- 
broad with his regiment from the year 1791 to 1799* 
it fell of course to my share to take the management of 
our family affairs in Lochaber; and chiefly, a pretty 
considerable live-stock concern, consisting mostly of 
sheep and black-cattle, which were kept on the upland 
pastures on the side of Lochtraig, a part of the exten- 


bWc highland property of his Grace the Duke of Gor- 
don in that district of the Grampians. On the lower and 
consequently the best part of said possessions, are the 
farms of Clianaig, Monessi, Achnacoichean, and Inverlair, 
the summer-grazing of which we furnish on ranges im 
mediately adjoining our own, which are about a day's 
journey among the mountains from Glenspean, where 
these farms are situated. Now, the sub-tenants of these 
farms are thirty -eight in number, most of whom are 
married, and have each a numerous offspring all healthy 
and thriving $ they are Roman Catholics for the most part, 
but have the advantage of an excellent parochial school, 
a liberal-minded parish minister, and a worthy priest, 
who is not more attentive to their religious tenets than to 
their moral conduct, and they are, on the whole, decent 
and correct. The small farms and their possessors were, 
and still are, in a great measure, arranged agreeable to the 
ancient usage, privilege, and right of inheritance, among 
the Gael, as already explained (See Note 10, Book First, 
p. 168. of the present piece.) And when I took the 
management entirely into my own hands, in the year 
1794, although the lands were, prior to that period, let re- 
markably low, yet the mode of farming was wretched in the 
extreme ; consequently the farmers were very poor, and 
the paymehtof their rents a thing next to impossible. Their 
infieldsmdoutfield patches of arable land were yearly scratch- 
ed with a thing somewhat shaped like a plough ; the seed 
scattered on the surface, and harrowed in with a few sticks 
pinned together with wooden pins *, (the teeth also made of 

* These barrows were tied to the tails of the horses ! — I had often heard 
of such a thing, but I believed it improbable ; " seeing," however, " is be-?- 
lieving".TT-tbe fact is certain. 


Wood) ; and things were left in this state till the beginning 
of Autumn, when the women, children, and herdsmen* re- 
turned from the summer pastures among the hills — to reap 
-—what ? — little mope perhaps than a scanty crop of straw, 
with as much corn, when threshed out, as scarcely was equal 
to the quantity sown a few mouths before, and sometimes, 
indeed, not quite so much ! Their houses, according to 
the fashion of their forefathers, were built of turf, usual- 
ly cut from the best sward of the whole farm, being the 
firmest, consequently the best, for that purpose. The far- 
mers, if they dfescrved that title, saved little or no manure 
for dressing their lands ; but when they required any dung 
for potatoes, or for barley,— down with one end of the 
house, which had been well smoked, and being ready to 
crumble to pieces, it was most excellent manure, and 
tiear at hand for the exigency of the moment S— -Nay, 
will it be believed ? — the vigilant, industrious farmer, hi* 
guide-wife, and bairns, would occupy one end of the 
house, while the other was pulled down for the purpose 
above stated, till Fear-an-tigh (the guide-man) "should 
find sufficient leisure to cut turf — from the best spot of 
the whole farm, and build a new house ! In the midst 
of this wretched management, however, some of those 
small farmers had realized property ; and those who had 
done so, contrived to cheat those who had none, year af- 
ter year, of their share of the farm, by keeping a greater 
number of sheep, cows, and particularly horses, than their 
neighbours ; consequently, while the idle, thoughtless, 
tenant was unable to pay his rent, even with the assist- 
ance of his children (.^ho generally make it & point to aid 
their parents in distress^ decayed circumstances, declining 


years, or extreme old age), was unable, I say, to scrape to' 
gether that yearly sum exacted in name of rent — while 
the richer had it always ready on the day, which he punc- 
tually paid 5 not, however, without reminding me, that, 
if he had his poor neighbour's proportion of lands, he could 
pay more rent, and would do so cheerfully, nay, give a 
grassum (a fine) down, provided he should get possession 
at the next term of Whitsunday — six months from the 
time then specified. I listened as if I listened not — But 
pondered these things in my mind ; not without much 
indignation and sorrow at the miserable state of the poor- 
er, and rapacious disposition of the more wealthy, of thofee 
farmers who possessed the four farms in question. Still, 
the question recurred, — what was to be done in a case so 
hopeless as the present ? I had engaged at Whitsunday 
1794, the person already mentioned (p. 909*) namely 
Alexander Macnab, to superintend the management of 
our affairs in Brae-Lochaber. Macnab, (who had been 
bred a shepherd and herdsman from his earliest years, 
had been well educated for his condition of life, is a 
shrewd, sensible, honest man, well acquainted with coun- 
try men, and skilful in rural economy), was the person of 
all others the most proper for a reformation of this nature; 
and to him, therefore, I applied for advice how to act in 
the affair thus stated, — a task that seemed so insurmount- 
able, at least ungracious in its aspect, and doubtful in its 
issue. " What is to be done, then," said I to Macnab 
in this business ! " Sir," he replied, u you must do one 
€( of two things : either you must turn off the poorer ten- 
*? ants, and let the richer have their portions of the lands 
" and stock thereon, by which means the rents will be duty 


* c paid ; or, you must eject the whole, take the farms into 
({ your own hands, and stock them anew with a good sound 
u stock; and then either let me manage all, (withassistants) 
(C or let it in lease to one reputable tacksman, who will pay 
u a surplus rent regularly without any farther trouble ; and 
€S by thid means you will be clear of a set of poor, needy^ 
u indolent men, who either know not, or will not attend 
" to their Own interest." " Good God !" exclaimed I> 
ic what ! turn to the wide world the race of present tenants, 
" who have, according to the ancient usage, privilege, and 
u right, of the Gael, as good a title to these possessions as 
(( our family have ! — no, no, let us try them another 
" year ;" which accordingly Was done, and the result 
turned out worse than ever. Macnab smiled at my ten- 
der-heartedness, and sneered at my simplicity. Mean- 
while, however, we were not altogether idle. I gave pe- 
remptory orders, that whoever should cut turf for build- 
ing a new houde, should be certainly ejected at Whitsun- 
day 1 1795. And a small premium was offered to the first 
who shtiuld build a house of stone in the spring of that 
year ; and lay up as much manure as should serve for his 
potatoes and barley : We had the satisfaction to see our re- 
formation succeed in those three essential points j matters 
of no small moment in the beginning of our plan. To 
make better farming utensils, particularly ploughs and 
harrows, and to plough with two instead of four horses; 
and also to tye the harrows to the necks, instead of the 
tails of their horses, were the next objects of reform in our 
rural economy. But these were points extremely difficult 
to be accomplished; ejection, or favour, were always 
the words; these wrought wnnders; still, however, the- 



men were very idly inclined, and left the greater part of the 
labour to the women, who did it cheerfully ; for they al- 
ways alleged that too severe labour did much harm to the 
make, vigour, and constitution, of their lords and masters, 
and consequently spoiled the breed. It was uniformly the 
custom of the men to work with their plaids on. They 
were now persuaded to lay these aside ; and they soon 
found out that they could work much easier without, than 
with them. This was another point gained : Macnab, 
who is my relation, and has known me from infancy, 
hinted one day, that he had known by experience that a 
small rise jn rent frequently quickened the exertions of 
individuals, who otherwise were rather less inclined to in* 
dustry, when, they found both ends meet (as the saying 
is), and slip easily through life, — yet remain poor till 
the last. I own I was a little alarmed at his manner of 
-speech ; but I had been greatly commending those inva- 
luable little essays of the immortal Franklin ; and my 
friend did not lose an opportunity of reminding me of the 
economic lessons of the American Bacon. " What would 
" you think," said Macnab, " of raising the rents to a- 
" bout one- fourth more than they are at present ?" — 
" What, sir !" ruin the tenants by a rack-rent ! — are you 
" in your sober senses ? — " Perfectly so," was his reply, 
" but hear me," rejoined he, and I heard him patiently 
to the end ; in fine, his scheme of raising the rent was so 
plausible, and so<consistent with truth, andjust observation, 
that we fairly put the scheme to the test of experiment in 
the year 1796. And in 1797, a farther rise was exacted, 
at which they murmured much, and threatened to leave 
iheir possessions in disgust, which alarmed me the less, 


as the price of cattle was on the rise, and! knew they 
could easily pay the rent stipulated, with a considerable 
clear profit after all. Still the notion of a joint-stock was 
running in my mind ; and I proposed to Macnab to see 
what he could do to forward "this favourite scheme for 
bettering the condition of the poorer, and to bring the 
richer nearer to a level on two of the farms mentioned. 
The two pitched upon, were Clianaig and Monessi, on . 
which are fifteen small farmers. Prodigious opposition 
and cabal were at length subdued. The property, or 
live-stock of each was brought to equal numbers of the 
same kinds : hill-horses? of which there happened to 
be by far too many, were reduced in number, and sheep 
and black cattle of the best breeds were got in their 
stead ; by which means each farmer had share and share 
alike of live-stock, and a similar division of the produce 
of the lands in tillage was observed. And when our own 
sales were made at the usual term, which is generally at 
the June market at Fort William or Gordonsburgh, their 
live-stock were at the same time disposed of j and the same 
drovers who purchased the cattle belonging to us, bought 
also those belonging to the two farms in question, and 
thus enabled them to pay their rent on the term-day, 
without the smallest trouble ; which circumstance gave 
great satisfaction to all parties. Still, however, they did 
not relish the change of system ; and the rest of their 
neighbours, who had not yet submitted to this mode of 
uniformity of goods and gear, agreeable to rural economy, 
sneered at their simplicity : — they also were invited in 
tarn to unite in the community of the joint- stock system, 
but they flew one and all in the face of it j and gave it a 


a; s 

most firm and decided opposition. Ejectiofivfas the word: 
they did not mind it : I was inwardly troubled ; but what 
is once begun, when substantially good, ought steadily to 
be persisted in ; and I had resolved — it must, and shall 
be done.-— and it was done. The farm of Achnacoichon 
accommodates eleven tenants, and their individual stock 
was* changed for the better ; each tenant to have an equal 
number of cows, sheep,* and horses ; and their mode of 
subdivision, labour, &c. the; same as the former. Inver- 
lair farm accommodates twelve tenants ; and their joints 
stock is precisely on the same footing as the three pre- 
ceding. So that since the year 179$> these four farms 
are managed in the manner of joint-stock, which I am 
far from holding up as a model ; but cannot help recom- 
mending it to the consideration of reputable tacksmen, 
thoughtful landholders, and patriotic members of the 
British Senate, as it appears to me, from the trial made 
previous to the year 1799> and since that period, under 
circumstances, too, verging toward the oppressive system 
of rack-rent,— ithaX the population and means of subsistence 
in the very wilderness of Lochaber, do actually exist, and 
may still be preserved by wise, and prudent management. 
— But to go on with the statement : — In the beginning of 
the year 1799* my son-in-law obtained leave of absence 
from his regiment, then in Portugal, and on his return 
home, when I laid before him tnv little scheme of rural 
economy, and reform respecting our subtenants, he was 
perfectly satisfied with all that had been done. As the term 
pf his lease from the Duke of Gordon was about to expire, 
he wrote to his Grace, reminding him of old times ; (for 
the Keappoch family were vassals of the family of Gordon 


for many centuries), and requesting a renewal of his lease, 
but without putting Keappoch on the same footing as the 
general run of tacksmen in that part of the country. His 
Grace was pleased to answer Captain M'Donell's letter in 
the handsomest manner; and in one paragraph expresses 
himself thus : "I continue disposed to mark my regard 
ts for your family, by a degree of favour which no com- 
" mon tenant could expect : and as you express a wish 
t( that Mr Tod * should arrange the business between 
" us, I shall meet your ideas, by directing him to report 
" candidly what rent can be afforded, after allowing to 
" you an adequate pledge of the continuance of my 
S€ friendship to your family.' ' The prosperous condition 
of our sub-tenants had been marked by the neighbouring 
tacksmen and wealthy shepherds with an evil eye. The 
start in the price of live-stock which had taken place dur- 
ing the late war, was favourable to the speculations of the 
store-farmer ; monopoly of lands, or range of pasture, con- 
stitutes their devotion ; and fanaticism of this sort is the 
worst of all extravagant enthusiasm ; for it is a sweeping 
evil that levels to the dust productive labour, and depo- 
pulates whole districts at once. Secret offers were given 
in, amounting to four times the former rent of my friend's 
possessions ; but the noble proprietor, true to his promise, 
with a princely munificence, says in his second letter, dat- 
ed London, May 15th 1799, which now lies before me, 
that he might let the possessions for four times the form- 
er rent, but that he did not mean to put him on the foot- 
ing of ordinary tenants ; and therefore he was willing to 

* The Duke's factor, a gentleman of high respectability, 


let hiin continue to hold the possessions for one-Jburtk 
less than what was actually offered. Keppoch, amazed at 
the prodigious rise, even after the liberal abatement made 
by the Duke of Gordon, was at first greatly at a loss what 
to do. He was a soldier, and had served seven years 
abroad during the hottest of the war, consequently but 
little versed in rural affairs ; and I own I was in the ut- 
most perplexity how to advise in a matter of such extreme 
delicacy as the present. For such a sacrifice of income 
on the part of the Duke of Gordon, was a matter of too 
much moment to throw away thoughtlessly ; and toop- 
pres the poor sub-tenants, already sufficiently burthened 
with their share of rents ; or to eject and turn them at 
once to the wide world, and take their farms into his 
own hands, and lay the whole under sheep, — were trying 
circumstances truly, and required some deliberation, be- 
fore any one step could be taken with safety or advantage. 
But what was then to be done ? To turn off his sub-ten- 
ants was a thing he would give no quarter to ; and to be 
the cause of oppression, seemed to him the most ungra- 
cious alternative, nay, a positive evil, and he would have 
nothing to do with it. The interest of the proprietor, 
the interest of the sub-tenants, and the interest of his 
own family, were all before him. (e Apprize the tenants/' 
said I to him, (€ of the delicate predicament in which you 
4t now stand — you are their chieftain; some of them fought 
€€ by the side of your grandfather Keppoch who fell onCul- ' 
" loden-moor \ and several of them fought with yourfa- 
4C tjier on that day when our immortal Wolfe fell on the 
" plains of Quebec — try what they will do of their own 
*f apcord; they have not seen you since you came of age — 



they are best judges of their own condition — leave the 
fC affair to their own management, and waif patiently 
€i the event," and he did so. Their answer was, " That 
€€ they would support their chieftain to the last shilling — 
€e by all means to keep the possessions, and that they 
€c would cheerfully do their utmost to pay their share, 
t( and relieve him of the burthen by their honest gains, 
u with as much as they could conveniently spare." On 
receiving this proof of their attachment, my son-in-law 
closed with the Duke of Gordon ; and our worthy sub- 
tenants have hitherto paid punctually their proportion 
of rent, notwithstanding its absolutely verging on that 
hateful and alarming evil, rack-rent ; owing, no doubt, 
in part, to the high price of sheep and black-cattle 
since 1799; but chiefly owing to the joint-stock store- 
' farm system, which I most earnestly. press on all con- 
cerned, — they are thus able to support their families, and 
over and above, from a correct statement which lyes now 
before me, of their yearly rent, interest of live-stock, and 
necessary expences, profit and loss, one year with ano- 
ther, each small farmer has a clear profit of between three 
and four pounds sterling, which serves to educate and f 
clothe his children, who are thus enabled to set out in 
life in a decent, respectable stile, suitable to their humble 
condition. Thus then we see the possibility, nay, the 
practicability, of preserving the population of the Gram- 
pians and Western Isles, exactly proportionate to the. 
means of subsistence. And if the instance which I have 
at some length laid before the reader, has succeeded un- 
der very unfavourable circumstances, how much reason 
is there to expect, that when joint-stock store-farms are 


established on a liberal footing, that such will most ef- 
fectually put a stop to the alarming evils of emigration, 
and the sweeping mischiefs of the sheep- system ? 

Before I bring this note to a close, I shall state briefly some 
of the leading circumstances respecting a similar order of 
independent peasantry that still existin Norway, concern- 
ing which some slight mention is made in Cox's Travels 
in Poland, Russia, 8cc, and are also noticed by Mai thus 
in his valuable Essay on the Principles of Population, 
(Book II. chap. i. 4to edit.) But as I have been favoured, 
through the politeness of Mr Boyd of Leith, with a com- 
munication on the subject from his friend Mr Hedigaard, 
a native of Norway, I am glad to have it thus in my power 
to state some particulars concerning this class of cultiva- 
tors not generally known. Among the mountains of 
Norway are a set of small farmers called bonders or high- 
landers, C€ whose persons/' I quote Mr Hedigaard' s own 
words, " are in general of a middle size, but hardy and 
€€ active. They dress themselves not otherwise in win- 
€€ ter than in summer, that is very thinly ; they are ac- 
4C customed to cold and heat, which have no hurtful in- 
€e fluence on their strong bodies. The country people of 
€e y Norway are universally attached to freedom. They will 
" submit to no oppression ; however they are good-iia- 
e€ tured, and willing to do every thing, even though it 
fC should hurt themselves, when they, imagine they act 
from their own will. They are at all times, good hu- 
moured, generous, and hospitable." And this descrip- 
tion agrees perfectly with that given by Mr Cox. " The 
" Norwegian peasants," says that intelligent writer, 
" possess much spirit and lire in their manner, are frank 


<Q and undaunted, yet not insolent, never fawning on 
'* their superiors, yet paying respect to those above them, 
" Their principal mode of salutation is by offering the 
u hand ; and when we gave or paid them a trifle, instead 
" of returning thanks by words or by a bow, they shook 
€€ hands with great frankness and cordiality. Many of 
t€ the peasants derive . their lineage from ancient nobles, 
€C and some even from the royal line ; they greatly pride 
" themselves on this supposed descent, and are careful 
" not to give their children in marriage but to their equals 
" in birth and blood." (Cox's Travels in Pol. Russ. &c.) 
The land in the point of Norway that I come from," says 
Mr Hedigaard, " consists of small estates, belonging to 
the farmers called bonders or boors. The estate supports 
iC from two to fifteen or twenty cows, and from five to 
€€ thirty goats, with one to four horses. A farmer has 
( c one, two, or three workmen on his property^ who get 
" payment for their work, besides enjoying their posses* 
" sions * for which they pay no rent f. The owners of 
" the land work along with their men, and with the ser- 
€€ vants which they keep in their own houses for annual 
" reward, and are chiefly employed in cutting down trees, 
* f the principal produce, for the lands do not yield grain 
tc sufficient for the family ; indeed the land is so rocky as 
" to render tillage impossible, except in small spots. All 
' i farmers are workmen 5 there are no noblemen. They are 
*< all equal in rank, only one may have more or less pro- 
f f perty than another, and of course more or less need to 

* That is " a hut, and a small piece of ground for raising corn and po» 
f Utoes." 

f Every one of them has a wife. 


rc work themselves.' ' The bonders, or small farmers (who 
are also their own masters) of Norway, exhibit a state of 
property, rights, and privileges, truly primitive, patriarch- 
al, and independent ; — an enobled peasantry is, indeed, 
one of the greatest wonders of the north of Europe, and 
of the age we live in. What a happy state of society, 
could such be realized in the more southern empires of 
Christendom ! — but I much fear it is a thing at an inde- 
finite distance, owing to the present state of property and 
eetablished order in these sections of the civilized contin- 
ent, or islands of the British empire. 

Give rise to just , yet unavailing discontents. — P. 131. 
With regard to several kinds of the live-stock of the 
store-farm, strictly so called, a few of the leading max- 
ims shall be noticed on the present occasion. 

€( Of horses few, of cattle, swine, goats, sheep, 
(€ As many as with safety you may keep. 
" Be always mindful, that to over-stock 
cf Is certain ruin," &c. 

' " Of horses few." To multiply horses was strictly for 
bidden the children of Israel. But he," (the king) " shall 
€e not multiply horses to himself, nor cause the people to 
" return to Egypt to the end that he should multiply 
" horses." (Deuteronomy, chap. xvii. v. 16.) In treat- 
ing of the causes of the scarcity of corn, a sensible writ- 
er (and reputable farmer, Mr William Mackie of Ormi- 
ston in East Lothian) states with' great accuracy, as one 


of the chief, (€ immense numbers of horses now trained 
" for war, or luxury, or kept for the more necessary pur- 
(C pose of carrying on the largely extended commerce of this 
" country. It would require," says Mr Mackie, €€ near 
u twelve millions of fertile acres, in a high state of cul- 
*' tivation, to support the population of Great Britain. 
u But it is more than probable that it actually requires 
€C 24 millions of acres, of the average quality of arable 
" land ; and allowing 5 horses to every hundred acres in 
iS cultivation, that gives of 

" Horses used in agriculture . . . •' . 1,200,000 
Cf Ditto, kept for pleasure, which pay tax . . 214,000 

(c Ditto, supposed not entered 50,000 

(c Do. cavalry, including levies of all descriptions 30,000 
€c Ditto, posting horses, mail, and hackney- 

" coaches, colts, and fillies, not taxed 250,000 
** Ditto, employed in the carriage of rude ma- 

" terials and manufactured commodities 256,000 


Total, 2,000,000 

€C Supposing each horse, on an average, to be fed 200 
€i days in the stable, at 20 pounds hay and | pecks Scotch 
tf per day, equal to 4000 lbs. of hay, and 56$ Winches- 
< c ter bushels in 200 days, but with extra feeding, sup- 
€C pose 

€€ 60 busheb the produce of . . . 1 fertile acre 
cc 4000 pounds of hay, or 35^ cwt. the 

" produce of 1 fertile acre 


u At pasture, 165 days, when he eatp the 

" grass of .•....'. 1 fertile acre 

" A horse therefore consumed the produce of 3 fertile acres; 
€€ and 2 millions of horses will require 6 millions of fer- 
" tile acres to maintain them. Upon this calculation, 
C€ Great Britain will consume on horses, annually, 15 
tc millions of quarters of grain, of which about a million 
u is now imported from foreign nations, besides the 
ie produce of 4 millions of acres of fertile land in hay and 
t€ pasture." (Dirom's Enquiry into the Corn Laws, 
p. 251.) 

What a striking fact ! — even after making considerable 
abatements with regard to Welch, Galloway> and high- 
land ponies, coltsand fillies, that feed throughout the year 
in hilly pastures, consequently consume no artificial grass, 
hay, or corn; yet after all deductions, the ftamber of 
highly fed horses kept for pleasure or shew, is truly great 
is, it is alarming. 

" Of horses few, of cattle, swine, goats, sheep, 
" As many as with safety you may keep. 

With respect to the best mode of proportioning the 
live-stock of a store-farm, there are various opinions. 
The manner of stocking, and mode of management, will 
doubtless greatly depend on situation, and unforfeen local 
Circumstances, unnecessary to touch on in thi» place. I 
shall however state the proportion which our joint-stock 
tenants at present observe in the farm of Lwerlair, one 
of those formerly mentioned. On this farm there are 
twelve teaants. They keep five hundred and fifty sheep ; 


Seventy-two head of black cattle, and twelve horses. I 
consider this farm the most exposed to losses during the 
winter, and even part of spring ; consequently, the ten- 
ants must rear more black cattle in proportion to the 
number of sheep; hence it may be considered a safe rule, 
and may apply pretty generally, that the more exposed the 
situation to severe storms, the fewer ought the number of 
sheep to be. On the otherfarms (which are also joint-stock) 
I find the number of sheep to be in the ratio of two head of 
black cattle to one score of sheep, and I take it to be that 
best adapted, on the whole, to our Grampian districts t>f 
hill-grazings, and low pastures. And where there is little 
reason to apprehend damage to growing wood or planta- 
tions, goats form a valuable part of live-stock ; and swine 
also, of what is called the Chinese breed, will be found 
very profitable, especially to a poor family, to whom a 
breed-sow will prove little or no trouble or ^expence in 
keeping, and very considerable benefit for winter-store, 
or animal food during summer and harvest— seasons of 
scarcity among the Grampians, when bread-corn and 
potatoes hap j en to be nearly consumed. 

1/ changes russet wilds to home-jieldsfair. — P. 13S. 

For a particultar detail of the mode of improving moss- 
ground, watering pasture, and meadow-ground, planting 
and raising timber, and other matters intimately connect- 
ed with the rural economy of the Hebrides and Grampian 
hills, I must refer my reader to Sinclair's Statistical Ac- 
counts : the two volumes lately published of the Prize 
Essays and Transactions of the Highland Society : an 


<c Essay on the state of growing timber, with a plan for its 
" increase, equal to its demand: "Girven's Address to the 
" Landholders, Factors, and Tenantry of the Highlands 
€€ of Scotland," (in which he lays down a practicable plan 
for planting willows, &c. for hoops; a speculation, by the 
way, of an excellent nature, and which certainly promises 
success and great advantage) — " An Account of the Im- 
€€ provement of Moss, &c. in a Letter to a Friend," — 
by one of the Senators of the College of Justice ; — which 
small tract is very valuable, as it contains multuminpar- 
vo. See also the Farmer's Magazine, in which are se- 
veral interesting papers concerning the improvement of 
moss-grounds, &c. 


Of rural industry of every kind. — P. 132. 

The framing and passing an act for the better regulat- 
ing the terms and duration of leases, relative to those dis- 
tricts of the Grampians and Western Isles, would doubt- 
less be an innovation in the agricultural system of the 
northern section of Great Britain. But such a necessary 
measure, how alarming soever (on the, first blush of the 
business, to use a parliamentary phrase), to certain pro- 
prietor—still, on the broad basis of political economy, * 
it should seem no less, wise, fit, and just* than necessary 
for the well-being of the empire at large. 

What I would propose, as a step preparatory to a bill of 
this nature, is : 1. That a census be taken of the number 
<rf inhabitants actually existing at this moment within the 
boundaries of the Grampians, and in the Western Isles. 
2. The number of real landholders, principal tacksmen, 


subtenants. Sec. 3. The number of square acres of ar- 
able, pasture, and waste-lands, comprehending the whole 
surface of these districts. 4. The real numbers of live- 
stock of all sorts, (together with their actual value in 
money) on hill or valley throughout the Hebrides and 
Highlands of Scotland. 

When this is done, let there be a select committee 
appointed to make enquiry respecting the real moveable 
property (i. e. live-stock.) The current prices ; — the 
grazing and wintering per head ; rate of the shepherd's 
and herdsmen's wages, meal, and number of their own 
live-stock, &c. The height above the level of the sea of 
each district, and low and high pastures, and arable 
grounds thereto belonging ; the present valued and ac- 
tual rent of each ; the probabilities of profit and loss for 
a term of years — not less than nineteen ; in a word, all 
contingencies relative to store-farms, the rural economy 
of our northern mountains and adjacent isles. 

After these particulars were as accurately ascertained 
as the nature of things would admit ; the next object that 
presses on the attention, is, the framing of an Act for the 
better regulating tlie terms and duration of leases within 
the boundaries of the Grampians and Western Islands. 
The principle or spirit of which, is, to prevent unneces- 
sary and alarming migration of the inhabitants ; restore 
the population, and preserve it steadily in equipoise with 
the due means of subsistence ; maintain the rural economy 
of these districts ; and by wise and appropriate laws for 
preventing on the one hand monopoly and oppression ; 
and on the other, idleness or ill-directed industry* 



Merely to drop a few hints respecting said act of Par- 
liament, I shall only mention, that in order to preserve 
a just balance between landlord and tenant, with regard 
to the fair rent of the smallest portion of Und, let thece 
be appointed a gran4-jury, and a petty jury *, for set- 
ting the real, just rent, of every parish, or* subdivision 
pf a parish, throughout the Grampians and Western 
Isles. This will be naturally regulated by current prices, 
nature of soil, extent of farms, number of live-stock 
of different kin^ds, mode of management, &c. These 
particulars will be properly ordered, according to local 
circumstances, nearness, or distance from market, &c. 
It is almost unnecessary for n^e to say that by such a 
system the proprietor would have full value for his land* 
and the tenant would likewise have every reasonable hppo 
realised in the event, if he but manages, with due skill* 
forethought, and. prudence. 

. Having heard very favourable report* concerning the 
terms and duration of leases, improved mode o£ agricul- 
ture and rural economy introduced by Walter. Campbell 
of Shawfield, Esq. into his extensive property of the is- 
land of Isla, I waited- on his eldest spn Colonel Joha 
Campbell of the Argylesbire militia, a few day* ago, in 
order to know some of the leading particulars respecting 
the actual state of affairs in that island ; and he with that 
suavity of manners peculiar to a liberal mind, engaged to 
procure me accurate information, and requested me to 
state succinctly such queries, as. went directly, to, the 

* Consisting of the most respectable landlords, and reputable tenants, 
summoned by the sheriff of the county, at least nine months previous to a 
general lease of lands of any particular district or parish. 



points in question ; which I accordingly did 1 and th£ 
Colonel handing my queries to his brother Robert Camp* 
bell, Esq. advocate, he immediately forwarded them to 
his father, who, in course of post, returned answers, in a 
letter to his son, dated " Woodhall, 1 5th February i 804," 
excerpts from which I shall lay before the reader, " It 
" is impossible/' says Shawfield, « that I can with 

perfect accuracy answer off hand the queries yoil put, 

but the following are probably not far from the truth. 

€g As to Query First y*- -The population of the island is 
u betwixt ten and twehre thousand Souls. The liiid& art 
" all under lease ; the duration of the shortest riirieteerl 
* ' years, many of them above it* They vte all prohibit- 
" ed to subset, but it is riot understood thfet this prohibi- 
g< turn prevents them letting crofts. and cows grass 16 
€€ workmen, or even detached pieces of moor-land as & 
u convenience to industrious tradesmen, to whom leases 
#i may be granted for any period short of that grafted to. 
" the principal tacksman, who remains bound for the 
i( full rent. I cannot say the exact number of principal 
t€ tacksmen, but the fents they pay are from four hurl- 
" dred to ten pounds a-year. 

" As to Query Seamd.-^hey 4re by theif leases botmtf 
€i to labour their farms consistent with the principles of 
u good husbandry ; — to bring under culture each year a 
" certain number of acres moss or moor, according to 
" the extent or nature of their farms ; and as to cattle of 
" different kinds, each farm is toumed, and beyond that 
4€ number they are not allowed to stock or keep : What 
" lands are taken from them for the purposes of planta- 


€f tions, minerals, or manures, are to be valued by arbi- 
" ters mutually chosen. 

" The Third Query answered in the foregoing one. 

" As to Query Fourth. — The rivers and bays for sal~ 
€€ mon fishing, are generally in the proprietor's occupa- 
rr tion, but occasionally let to north country or other 
" good fishermen for the season. There are three salmon 
t€ cutts upon different rivers, upon the plan of the salmon 
" cutts on the rivers in the north of Ireland. 

" The sea bays for white fishing are numerous, where 
€i many of the inhabitants occasionally fish for home 
€€ consumption; but in the two villages of Bowmore and 
€€ Portnahaven, it is carried on to more extent; from, the 
cr last mentioned, besides supplying their inland neigh- 
<c bours, there is a considerable quantity of salt fish ex- 

From this off-hand sketch of the present state of the 
island o(Isla y thus given by the proprietor himself, the en- 
lightened reader will be at no loss to pronounce the con- 
dition of its numerous inhabitants, so far as it depends 
on the landlord, comfortable indeed ; and I cannot help 
observing, that, the rural economy adopted in Ida is a 
model, in many respects, for proprietors and tenants, 
governed by circumstances peculiar to insular situations. 


And in exchange get those of distant shores. — P. 133. 

The incalculable advantages of inland navigation, or 

canal-system, to the northern parts of our island, stands 

in need of no illustration whatever. Volumes have been 

written on the subject, and our southern neighbours have 


not only read, but have entered most liberally Into the 
speculations of the Crinan and Caledonian Canals ; the 
former of which, I am sorry to understand, has greatly 
disappointed the reasonable expectations of the proprie- 
tors. I was ignorant of this unfortunate fact, till my 
friend Doctor Kenneth Macleay of Oban, made it known 
to me in answer to queries concerning the present state 
of rural economy, fisheries, &c. in that district of Argyle- 
shire in which he practises. I shall quote the words of 
of his interesting communication. " Little or no good 
€€ has yet arisen from the Crinan canal. The execution 
C( of it seems to have been ill-conducted, as the locks 
" and banks are often giving way ; besides, it is not cap- 
" able of admitting vessels of .the size for which it was 
" originally meant : for the locks, by some egregious 
" mistake, will not receive a vessel which the depth of 
" water can float. The dues are considered too high, and. 
cc most vessels prefer going round the Mull of Kintyre. 
€C Sanguine hopes of its turning out well are not enter* 
« tained." 

This account, I must confess, is somewhat ohiHing ; 
but I am informed by a person connected with, and 
deeply interested in the speculation, that had another plan, 
which he shewed me, been adopted, and carried on, it 
would have cost much less money, and would have 
answered every reasonable purpose much better 5 — the 
interference of several of the Argyleshire proprietors of; 
land, is said to have greatly frustrated the original inten- 
tion. But as government have so liberally contributed 
towards the construction of the Caledonian canal, it is 
hoped care will be taken, that no private consideration 




thill, in any manner, militate against the general utility 
of so magnificent a structure. To this undertaking, how- 
ever, save the survey made of its line and extent, and 
boring where the basons are to be fonricd, very Uttle hi-> 
therto has been done ; but it is hoped the same public 
spirited individuals*, who came forward and gave the mea- 
sure that support which the magnitude of theobjeet stood in 
need o£ will still persevere until the grand wofk be com- 
pleted, and the great end, in a natural point of view, fully 
accomplished to the satisfaction of all concerned. Re-> 
specting the subject of the inland navigation of the Gram- 
pian districts, see the reports of Watt, and Teller, the 
writings of Knox, and Anderson ; Sinclair's Statistical 
Account of Scotland, (particularly VqL xxi.) > the Brize 
Essays and Transactions of the Highland Society of Scot- 
land, and M'Arthur's Financial and Political Facts (fourth 
edition 1809.) 

A nation! 's industry is sure its fairest Grown.—* -p. 135. 

It is not a little remarkable, that most of the great ew- 
poria of antiquity, as well as several of the capitals of the 
present dsy, were founded by obscure fishesmen* whose 
enterprising posterity established empires by the fruits of 
their industry-rrthst diadem, as formed by the united e£* 
forts of the people, which unquestionably they have ever 
at their own disposal ; consequently will gnatd it with 
their fortunes and lives. 

Thence soon returning to th* advent' rous toil.-^V. \sg m . 

The dispatch with which the Dutch (certainly the first 

* Pw$icuhrfy Hawkin* Brown, E*j. and Hobjiouse, Es^, 


fishers in the world) discharge their cargoes,— when rel 
fitted, return, and resume their station on the fishing- 
banks, is worthy of our imitation, and if possible we ought 
to out-do them in this as we excel them in naval tactics. 

By instinct led as to a native home.— P. 136. 
The natural, commercial, and economical history of 
the herring) has been ably treated by the late reverend Dr 
Walker, professor of natural history in the university of 
Edinburgh ; by the reverend James Headrick ; Mr John 
Mackenzie of Edinburgh ; and' Cosmo Gordon, Esq. of the 
custom-house, London; as also, by Dr James Anderson; 
the late Mr John Knox y the late Mr George Pitcaifne ; 
.and Mr John Oirven, (deceased) a very zealous and 
intelligent writer on the herring fishery. The instinct 
that seems to excite the shoals of herring to returny 
as some allege, to the haunts of their nativity, where! 
they remain during what is called the fishing season, 
is very singular: but I must refer my reader to the 
Prize Essays and Transactions of the Highland So- 
ciety of Scotland* wherein he will find ample and mos< 
interesting information, concerning this inf Suable branch 
of British productive liikfurj that gddeH rhine i a£ the Bat- . 
tavians were Wont in their proclamations for the encou- 
ragement of their fisheries (on tot shores too !) 16 call our 
inexhaustible treasures of the herring-shoals. (See also 
Grossed s Hints on the sundry Fi sheriesbf Ireland . White's 
Observations on the Scottish Fisheries. Buchanan's Ge- 
neral View of the Fishery of Great Britain ; and many 
valuable and important observations in M< Arthur's Fin- 
ancial and Political Facts, chap. v. fourth edition 1803.) 


But, let it not, however, be said hereafter by some keea 
satyrist, that " A few years ago, the herring-fishery 
•'employed all Grub-street, it was the topic in every 
€c coffee-house, and the burthen of every ballad. We 
" were to drag up oceans of gold from the bottom of the 
" sea ; and we were to supply all Europe with herrings 
" upon our own terms. At present we hear no more of 
« all this. We have fished up very little gold that lean 
u learn ; nor do we furnish the world with herrings, as 
" was expected." Let us wait but a few years longer," 
continues this celebrated writer, " and we shall find all 
" our expectations an herring- fishery*." But these, 
after all, are but new words to the old tune, " Vanity of 
" vanities, saith the preacher, vanity of vanities, all is 
" vanity. What profit hath a man of all his labour which 
€€ he taketh under the sun ?" — to which may be answered 
in the words of the same preacher : " Whatsoever thy 
*' hand findeth to do, do it with thy might ; for there is 
'* no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in 
f the grave, whither thou goest. I returned and saw 
u under the pun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the 
" battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wi&e, nor 
f ' yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to 
f men of skill ; but time and chance happened) to them 
" all. Fpr m^n also knoweth not his time *, as the fishes 
** that are taken in an evil net," &c. t- But let us pro- 
vide good nets, and trim-buijt busses, with every thing 
requisite for our labours in our inexhaustible treasures of 

* Vide Goldsmith's Essays, Ess. viii. 

| Eccjesiastes, chap. i. v. 2. chap. ix. v. 10. 


the herring and white fisheries ; and when our hearts are 
steadily set on doing with all our might whatsoever man 
can do, and putting always our trust in that Providence 
which giveth not the race to the swift, nor the battle to 
the strong, but will bless, with a tenfold blessing, the 
laudable endeavours of those who double their diligence 
in all that is comely, just, and righteous, in things tem- 
poral as well as sacred. 


To sounding oars the choral iurram swells. — P. 138. 
We learn from ancient history that, among the Greeks, 
the oar-song, called, »*y*«(«f, or r« rgug«x«r pi**;, was 
g sung to the lyre by a musician, whose duty it was. to cheer 
the rowers by his powers of song, when by reason of long 
continued exertion their spirits flagged, and their bodies 
became weary and faint with labour, and also to direct 
the rowers to keep the rythmus or time exactly, to which 
custom the Roman poet thus alludes. 

« Medics stat margme puppis, 

" Qui voce alternos nautarum temper ft ictus, 
" Et remis dictet sonitum, pariterque relaiis 
" Ad numerum plaudat resonantia ccerula tonsis. 


The iurrams or oar-songs of our Hebridian mariners, 
however, are always sung by one, who is joined by the 
rest of the rowers in chorus. In general, when the Gael 
are weary, or begin to flag at any sort of labour, a lun- 
tfeag or song ?nd chorus is called for, and it is truly sur- 


prising with what animation they renew their employ** 
ment when the limneag strikes up. 


The cause of heavy mourning, hopeless ti/G.-— P. 142. 

Evebt thing that regards the history of St Kilda, or 
Hirta, is interesting to the philosophic enquirer who 
wishes to contemplate a state of society innocent as igno- 
rant of the ways of the great world. To several individuals, 
with whom I have conversed, and who visited Hirta late- 
ly, its inhabitants appeared to answer pretty nearly the 
descriptions which Martin, and after him Macaulay, give 
of this lonely isle, the next land to which on the west i4 
that of America. u The inhabitants of Hirta," says'. 
Martin, " are about two hundred in number, and are 
t€ well proportioned, and speak the 1mA" (erse, or Gaelic 
" albanach) " only their habit is much like that used in 
" the adjacent isles : They are very exact in their pro- 
€C perties, and divide both the fishing, as well as the fbwl- 
" ing rocks, with as great niceness as they do their corn 
" and grass : they have but one boat in the isle, and 
" every man hath a share in it, proportidftably to the 
€t acres of ground for which they pay rent. They are 
" stout rowers> and will tag at the oar withotrt krteiinis- 
<f sion. When they sail, they take no compass, but 
(e take their measures from the sun, moon, or stars ; and 
" they rcfly much on the course of the Vatk>u& floete-of 
« sea-flow* j and this last is their surest <Hreet6ry. ,Thk 
« little commonwealth hath twtf ropes of about twenty-' 
44 four fathoms length each, for cRmbirig the tacks, which 
«* they d© by turns * the ropes are secured all ttmiti *itft 


ci cows hides salted for the use, and which preserve them 
" from being cut by the edge of the rocks. By the 
€€ assistance of these topes, they procure a great niany 
" eggs and fowls. I have seen them," continues Martin, 
" bring home in a morning twenty-nine large baskets 
" all full of eggs ; the least of the baskets contained four 
" hundred big eggs, and the rest eight hundred and above 
" of the lesser eggs. They had with them at the same 
" time about two thousand sea-fowl, and some fish, to- 
st gether with pome limpets called patella, the biggest I 
« ever saw. These poor people do sometimes fall down 
u as they climb the rocks, and perish ; their wives on 
" such occasions make doleful songs, which they call la* 
l( mentations. The chief topics are their courage, their 
" dexterity in climbing, and the great affection which 
" they shewed to their wives and children." (Vide Mar- 
tin's Description of the Western Islands of Scotland.) 
The address with which they haul vessels of considerable 
burthen beyond the reach of the waves, is astonishing r 
Macaulay, who made a voyage to St Kildain June 1758, 
notices this circumstance in the following passage : ts All 
( < the strength of this art was with the greater alacrity* 
tried upon this- occasion, and with a success beyond 
any thing I could have expected. Without giving 
" time to any one of us to- jump into the water, the St 
" Kildians hoisted up, almost in a moment, our little 
(< vessel, ourselves, and all the luggage that belonged to 
€t us, to a dry part of the strand/* 


Your cares beguile — thus winter seems not long.— P. l£4. 
The history of Iceland holds up to fiew a series of the 


most interesting particulars, respecting the affairs of man 
associated under circumstances the most hostile to his 
convenience and comforts, of any almost on record. And 
to the natural historian, Iceland itself furnishes one of 
the most extraordinary scenes, on a grand scale, of the ef- 
fects of fire on the surface of the terraqueous globe. The 
literary history likewise, of this distant and lonely corner 
of northern Europe, strikes the contemplative mind with 
wonder and admiration. The art of writing, it is said, 
was as earljrpractised among the Icelanders as among 
the Franks and Germans ; that is, about the sixth cen- 
tury ; and the introduction of Christianity (A. D. 1000.) 
paved the way for established religion and a code of laws. 
To the Runic character succeeded that of the Roman ; 
and their youth were regularly instructed in the beauties 
of the classics. The philosophy and theology of the 
schools and ancient church were taught; and even science 
dawned on that bleak island within the arctic circle. Not 
long after the art of printing was invented, a printing- 
press found its way to the volcanic wilds of Iceland ; and 
letters have flourished among the Icelanders ever since. 
Until Mr Stanley thinks proper to communicate to the 
world the materials my friend Mr John Bain of Edinburgh 
furnished him in his voyage to Iceland, (which I under- 
stand is to appear in the article Iceland in Rees Encyclo- 
paedia) the best information concerning this island i* to be 
found in the late worthy and to be lamented Dr Uho Von 
Troil's Letters on Iceland, to which valuable, work the 
reader is referred. 

Where dread spa-monsters, &c. — P. 144 .1. 10. 
Tfce following excerptions from Debes's Description 



of Toeroe, (written originally in Danish, translated by 
Sterpin, and printed in London in the year 1676), will 
illustrate the fictions in part alluded to in this passage. 
" Mr Peter Clanson," says Debes, €€ writeth in his de- 
ct scription of Norway, that these whales (grind-whales) 
" are driven in by a whale-dog whereof I have often en- • 
u quired, but could never get any certain knowledge of 
" it ; yet I cannot abstain from informing the curious 
C€ reader what is at last come to my knowledge. It hap - 
f f pened in the year 1664, when there came many whales 
" into Skaalefiord, about harvest, as aforesaid, that when 
€C the greatest part of the whales were killed, there ap- 
" peared a sea-monster swimming about the whales, be- 
iC tween them and the land, that was in every manner 
u like a dog, as for those parts that were above the water, 
cc they were of a grey. colour, hairy, with long ears like 
" an English rough spaniel, and the fame of it grew com- 
" mon over the whole country, John Theodore de Bry," 
continues Debes, " in his description of his West India 
« voyages, writteth, that there is a sort of sea-dogs found • 
ff in the Magellanic Straits, that are hairy on their fore 
cc parts to the midst of their body, with short ears, as one 
" uses to cut those rough dogs ; or like lions, their fore- 
« feet being like the hands of men, and their hinder parts 
" like a fish : they are great and terrible to look on, whence 
" one may finally conclude that there are such whale- 
" dogs, though I cannot decide whether they be of the 
" same sort with those that are in the WJest Indies; there 
€€ are doubtless," he adds, " more sea-monsters yet, that 
€S have not been known hitherto.' ' (Toeroe et Fberoa 
Reserata, p. p. 1 78, 1 79.) There can be little doubt that 


this credulous writer had in infancy imbibed a strong tinc- 
ture of the marvellous, from perhaps the ancient mytho- 
logy of Scandinavia. Fide Mons. Mallet's Introduction 
a VHistoire deDenmarc. See also the Edda, Fable xxvii. 
of the voyage undertaken by Thou to go to fish the 
Great Serpent: in truth the monstrous serpents and krak- 
ens of the northern seas, of which we read, seem of the 
like origin. 

Where whirlpools foam, and Malestrxm's furious surge. 
p. 144. 1. 15.— " An than. Kircheny,l. 3, Hydrog." says 
the author last quoted, " writes of the renowned whirf-' 
" pool under Norway, called Moske Strom, (Moshoe 
" Strom, or MalestromJ that it is, a sea gulph, wherein 
" the sea runs down under the land of Norway, and ran- 
€€ neth out again at another sea gulph within Sums Bo- 
" thenicus,orBothen, whose opinion M. Herbhuus, in his 
" public dissertation, held at Copenhagen in the year 1 670.. 
« Scylla and Cliaryhdis are so in the Sicilian sea, the 
« one under Sicily, the other near the point of Calabria.'' 
(Debes's Descrip. of Foeroe Islands, p. p. 64, 35.) 


The royal maid that died in Ink tore. — p. uo. 
Tjhb Maid of Norway, as the Scottish-historians call 
her, the grand-daughter of Alexander III. " The young 
" queen," says an accurate living writer, « was upon 
" her passage to Britain, and died in Orkney, probably 
" in South Ronakfaay, where there is a safe harbour oal- 
" led St Margaret's fiope, seemingly from this event." 
(M'Phersoa'sedit . of « fVyntownis Crony kil of Scotland*" 



—notes on the eighth book.) " The young qoeen, 
says the learned author of the Annals of Scotland, " sick- 
€ * ened in her passage to Britain (from Norway) * * landed 
" in Orkney, languished and died, about the end of Sep- 
<i tember 1290 ; — propter quod regnum Scotice est turba- 
€( turn, et communitas desperata." (Annals, Vol. I. 
p. 195.) for it was on this untoward event that the in- 
dependence of Scotland as a free imperial kingdom was 
first called in question ; which gave rise to those cruel 
wars which ended u» the death of Wallace, and eleva- 
tion of Bruce to the Scottish throne. It should appear 
from the following excerpt of a fragment of Ossi^k, 
(Fingal, Book iv.) that Ifinistore or Orkney, was called 
by the ancient GzAhmstorc^ from Minis, island, and tow, 
a boar, i. e. the Islands of Boars * ; thus, for instance, 
Ullin in his war-song, e*orting Gaul to meet Swaran 
in battle* says. : 

™ -*-<— Gear sws g&iras 
(€ Gun bhairc-sheol ban 
€€ Bhi snamh mu dubh Innistorc, 
" Mar tarneinach mheall 
" Do bhmlk a hoick, 
" Mar charms chrmmn^ 
Da ckro'id/wgun roimt^ &c. 


That isi to, say>, " Hew< down, with dispatch* Let no 

* Ob© of- the raost^togereus currents in the Pentland-Frith, is called the 
Moars of Dvngis-Bay* 


€€ white-sailed bark escape that skims (or swims) around 
" dark Innistorc. Like the thunder of the mountains be 
" thy strokes, O hero. Thine eyes like a gleaming ember 
in thy head. Thy heart firm and hard as a rock," Sec. 



So perish tyrants as they did of yore. — P. 146. 
The whole of this passage alludes to Bothwell's 
flight and miserable exit. " He languished .ten years in 
" this unhappy condition ; (imprisonment in Denmark) 
€c melancholy and despair deprived him of reason, and at 
" last he ended his days, unpitied by his countrymen, 
" unassisted by strangers." (Robertson's Hist, of Scot, 

Book v. See also Melvill's Memoirs, p. p. 168, 169.) 


in Kirkwall languish 1 d y sunk, &c. — P. 146. 
Vide €t The Norwegian Account of Haco's Expedi- 
c€ tion against Scotland;" A. D. 1253. translated by 


Then Hilda's joys did roar ! 

When Lochlin* s sonslaid waste our western shore. — P. 147. 
" Heiden, a celebrated pirate, beingonavisit to Hangna, 
" king of HalogaUmd, forcibly carried off his daughter Hi/- 
" da the Helen of the north. This occasioned long and 
bloody wars. The heroine was at last considered a god* 
dess presiding over every thing military. Hence battle 
is termed the joys of Hilda. (Vide Johnstone's transfo- 





** tioti of Lodbrokar^Quida ; or The Death Song of 
Lodbroc: notes, p. p» 96, 97.) 

Defies the wraith tliat rules the mingling storm.- — P. 147* 
The idea of a spirit or Wraith that haunts the dan-* 
gerous head-land called Cape-Wrath is not unnatural 
to minds unaided by reason, nor guided by experience ; 
hence the ignorant natives that live near the spot, and the 
mariners who dread the approach to this fatal rock> believe 
firmly in the existence of the spirit of the cape, and trem- 
ble. This extreme N. W. point of North Britain is ex- 
posed to the fury of the North Sea, and rage of the At- 
lantic ocean. Even in the calmest weather the waves roll 
in and impinge with vast force around the base of the 
precipice ; and what renders it peculiarly dangerous when 
it blows a fresh gale, is a shallow that runs in a north- 
east direction for more than six miles from the extreme 
point of the cape ; beside, there are dangers stijl greater; 
these are two hidden rocks ; one of which is about nine 
miles due north, and is only visible in neap-tides. The 
tremendous violence of the sea during a storm from 
the north, or a tempest bursting in all its fury from the 
west, is inconceivably awful : and, in truth, the whole 
way from Cape-Wrath to Duncan' s-bay -head, including 
the raging whirlpools of the Pentland-Frith, presents to 
the stoutest-hearted sailor perils the most formidable, 
and but too frequently the most fatal :. hence, the pro- 
priety of constructing the Caledonian Canal as speedily as 
possible, — a grand undertaking, that promises in its com- 
pletion substantial benefits to the mercantile speculations 



<rf the country at large. And when it is considered whs* 
a small sum this magnificent structure require* in thd 
execution of its proposed plan, in comparison with the 
incalculable advantages of a private, but more especially 
of a public nature, it appears as a grain of sand in the 
accumulated heap of ages. For, according to the state- 
ment of the general expences of the Caledonian Canal, 
made in the Report for the Committee on the Survey of 
the Coasts, &c. of Scotland, ordered to be printed, 14th 
June 1803, the sum-total amounts to no more than 
£. 349,617. Fide Report, p. 45. 

■ * 

Pervades our cities, lands, and boundless sea*— P. 149* 
This, and the preceding verses, I conceive to contain 
the leading maxims, or spirit of Political Economy, pro- 
perly so called ; the main propositions of which Df Adanf 
Smith has finely illustrated in his ma&terly work " An 
" Enquiry into the Wealth qf Nations ;" — Dr Adam Fer- 
guson has likewise elucidated these leading principles in bis 
" Essay on the History of Civil Society ;" and with still 
more enlarged views of the subject, the learned successor 
of the latter in the moral philosophy department in the 
university of Edinburgh, Mr Professor Dugald Stewart, 
in his second class for the instruction of the more advanced 
students, continues to throw additional and concentrated 
light en the various many and interesting topics concern- 
ing the grand chain of the political universe, of the ex* 
tremities of whieh man may never be permitted the slight- 
est glance. 

lagit-Grecti, z%d Frkrwarf 1 tof. 





Having been disappointed in getting authentic informa- 
tion respecting the Eari of Breadalbane's improve 
nients on his estates in Perthshire, which a person on 
the spot hatf engaged to procure for me,— yet, hav- 
ing partly witnessed, and heard so much of the be- 
neficial results of these improvements, I was still un- 
willing, notwithstanding my notes were all printed off, 
that this work should appear without some notices con- 
cerning the happy effects of such an excellent plan of 
rural economy, — at once calculated to better the con- 
dition of the industrious poor, reward the diligent 
farmer, and ultimately promote the interest of the li- 
beral landholder, without injuring the population of 
our island. Knowing that John Campbell, Esq. 
writer to the sigrtet, (his Lordship's cashier) could 
furnish some general and correct information relative 
to the improvements in question, I accordingly wait- 
ed on that gentleman, who, with that easy politeness, 
and zeal for promoting good, so characteristic of a 
liberal and benevolent mind, procured me the follow- 
ing interesting communication, which contains the 
substance of the Earl of Breadalbane's own observa- 
tions, and those of his chamberlain. 

U2 , 


"For some yean past the Earl of Breadalbane has been 
much occupied m promoting improvements and industry 
on his estates in Perthshire, and the measures adopted 
have been attended with a success beyond the most san- 
guine expectations. 

€t His Lordship had for years viewed with regfet the er- 
roneous mode of managemeht followed by his small ten- 
ants, a mode prevalent in almost all the districts of the 
highlands *. But the great population, the small size of 
the farms, and the prejudices of the people, all seemed to 
combine as insurmountable bars to any innovation* By 
enlarging the farms, a very considerable increase of re- 
venue might have been obtained, but the immediate con- 
sequence would have been emigration to a great extent. 
His Lordship's object, however, was to retain the people, 
and, at the same time, to make them instrumental in the 
improvement of the country. With this- patriotic view, 
a new arrangement was made of the farms, by dividing 
the arable part of them, and what was within the head- 
dyke, into small lots of different si?es, by which means 
each tenant was to reap the fruit of his own industry and 
exertions. Moderate rents were put-on these : Leases of 
a reasonable length (generally 15 years) were given, and 

* " There had not been for many years any lease. From a to 8 tenants 
were joined in one farm, and each had from 1 6* to 18 patches of it for his 
different crops, consisting generally of oats, barley, pease, potatoes, and flax, 
having part of infield, and part of outfield for each of these crops, also several 
patches of meadow or natural hay ground. In short, the farm was runrig 
among all the tenants, and they were besides burdened with crofters, who 
had holdings for one or two, and in some cases three cows ; which holdings, 
to add to the confusion, were intermixed with the run-rigs, The conse- 
quence was, that the crops were very indifferent, and the land* could not be 
improved. 1 



a proper mode of cultivation applicable to such posses- 
sions, prescribed. And- as the joint production of corn* 
cattle] and sheep (the proportion of each being regulated 
by local circumstances) was considered as most likely to 
give permanency and certainty to the prosperity, of the 
country, and preserve its population, the hill-pasture 
and moors were left in common to the low arable lots and 
farms, under certain regulations and restrictions with re- 
gard to the stocking, &c. to serve as summer-pasture for 
their sheep and young cattle. 

" By the leases, the tenants were bound to a proper no- 
tation of crops ; to clear the arable ground of every im- 
pediment to the plough, (rocks and stones requiring 
blasting, and trees intended to be preserved^fcxcepted) and 
to drain where necessary; to build march-dykes on 
fences, the proprietor paying Is. per rood of the expence; 
to erect new steadings of houses and offices where the old 
ones were inconveniently situated, the proprietor giving 
timber gratis, and the tenants at large being taken bound 
for carriages of lime, timber, &c. 

€i The above measures, and principally premiums, 
which were distributed amongst the tenants to a consi- 
derable amount, in proportion to the improvements they 
made, excited their industry to the utmost, and converted 
them from their former habits of indolence. Though the 
change only took place 6 or 7 years ago, the barren spots 
they have already brought into cultivation (carrying on 
at the same time the triple operation of clearing, draining, 
and inclosing) is astonishing. The valuation of the ex- 
pence of the improvements made amounts to 90001., 
about the third of which^ suer'nafljeen paid them in 


" Lord Brcadalbane has also collected all the trades- 
men, manufacturers, &&. iato villages built for the pur- 
pose, and given them a certain proportion of land fer 
their subsistence, enough at least to raise a little crop, and 
jteep a cow through winter and summer. He has aba 
appropriated detached .farms in proper situations for the 
numerous race of crofters (formerly a burden to the ten- 
ants) where each of them has a cow's grass, keep for it 
summer and winter, and some crop. 

(C The population of the district of Breadalbane on the 
sides of LochTay, is very great, perhaps not to be equal- 
led, considering its extent, by any country district in* 
Great Britain, there being about 3000 souls in the space 
of about 30 miles in length, and nearly on an average 
v, one mile in breadth. But this uncommon population is 
rather a disadvantage to the proprietor, as, by reducing 
the number of people, and enlarging the farms, a great 
increase of rent would follow. The immediate conse- 
quence, however, of such a measure, as already stated, 
would be emigration, which has hitherto scarcely taken 
place at all from that quarter. The population is, how- 
ever, so rapidly on the increase, that it is feared this must 
now and then happen partially, unless something is done 
to find work and subsistence for the supernumerary people. 

€€ A considerable quantity of flax, of an excellent qua- 
lity, is raised in this district, the soil being peculiarly 
congenial to its production. There are also manufactures 
of coarse woollen cloth, and linen, which might be car- 
ried to great extent, were some public aid afforded to them, 
and would supply ample employment for the increasing 

The patriotic intentions of the present administration 




m forwarding the internal improvement of Great Britain, 
and that hitherto neglected, part of it, the Highlands of 
Scotland, will, it is hoped, be crowned with complete 
Success ; and writ equally tend to increase its riches and 
revenue in time of peace* and its power and protection m 
time of war." 

il.lliil ft m ff 

The following is an Extract from the Survey and Report 
of the Coasts and Central Highlands of Scotland, made 
ly command of the Lords of the Treasury, presented 
afterwards to the House of Commons^ and ordered. /# 
be printed, 5tk April 1803'. 

" That, for this purpose, Regulations should be made 
to prevent Land-Owners from lessening the Population 
upon their Estates below a given proportion ; and that 
" some Regulation of this sort would in the end be in 
(C favour of the Land-Owners, as it would preserve the 
(C Population best suited to the most improved mode of 
" Highland Farming, such as i> practised at Breadal- 
" bane." 


I have just now * examined a machine for working 
fish-nets* the invention of John Robertson, stocking- 
weaver, Edinburgh, on which he engages to work fish- 
nets of the best fabric, in one sixth part of the time^ — 


consequently he can afford them much cheaper than any 
wrought in the usual way by the hand — a circumstance 
in many respects, of no small moment. 

The ingenious inventor has already been countenanced 
by the Board of Trustees for Fisheries, Manufactures, &c. 
and Conventions of Royal Burghs of Scotland. And he 
is advised to exhibit this curious piece of machinery to 
the Society of Arts of the Adelphi, London, in order that 
so highly useful an invention may not only benefit the. 
individual ; but also, by the patronage of that society, 
ihe public at large may participate in the advantage of 
readily procuring, at a greatly reduced price, an indispen- 
fible article of the herring and white Fisheries of Great 
Britain and Ireland. 


Page 6i. line 3. for rend their hearts, read rend their filial hearts. 

— 78. line a 1. for oily read fetid. 

— — 79. line 9- for In order that, &c. rtdd So that your fleecy stores 

may duly thrive. 

— 84. line 1. /or beam read beams. 
— r- 188. line 20. jfer burst read bursts. 
~— — 131. Kne 25, for years read year. 



ARMTmd. Navy of Great Britain must suffer greatly by the 

Emigration of the Gael, - - p. 9, 150, 167 

Anecdotes of Queen Margaret, 184.— of King Robert Bruce II7 


Bards or Ollamhans, of the Gael, an account of the, « 164 

British Legislature appealed to in behalf of the injured Gael, 

14, 149, 218 
Breadalbane, Earl of, his successful improvements of Rural Eco- 
nomy on Loch-Tay side - 307 
Battle of the Grampians, scene of the, ascertained - 224 
Botanist of the Grampians - - 94, 233 
Bcnevis, the highest hill in Scotland, sublime prospect from, described 

108, 244 
Bonders or Boors of Norway, a singular order of Independent Pea- 
santry, described - - 282 
Bothwell, Earl of, account of his death - - 304 
Bruce, Robert, King of Scotland, anecdotes respecting ,. j$j 


Chieftain and his Clan assembled at a Feast, 27.— -Attachment of a 

Modern Chieftain to his Clan - 156" 

Corn-mills, their introduction into the Highlands - 161 

Clans, singular historical fact respecting the - - 187 

Cappercaifaie, (a species of grouse), description of the - 106" 

Choral Oar-Song of the Hebridian mariners • 138, 297 

Crotnleach, or Bowing Stones, doubtful whether erected by the Druids 

or the Romans - - - 232 

Crinan Canal, some account of * - * 293 


Caledonian Canal, commenced by the liberal aid of Government, 2513. 
•—Necessity of its speedy completion 30$ 


Deerstalker, described - - - 19J 

Dancing, a slight sketch of its history, from the earliest records to the 

present time - - 257 

Dances peculiar to the Gael " - ?$i 

Emigration to America discouraged, t>3 — Miseries of, described, 34, 

175. — The Legislature called upon to arrest the progress of - 149 
Episode, illustrative of the miseries of the Gael when turned out of 

their possessions - - - 171 

feudal state, its origin among the Gail - * 20, 181 

Fever, Fellow, personified *• 3$ 

"Fisheries of the Hebride Isles described ~ - 134 

Fatal Stone, on which the Scottish Kings sat when they were crowned, 

86, 227 


Grampians, desolate appearance of, 6. — Former times contrasted with 

the prefent, 7, 8, 149 History of, 16. — Their former happy state, 25- 

— Inexhaustible riches of, pointed out, 39, 206; — Husbandry of, 71. 
Description of the medicinal herbs and vegetable dies indigenous to 

. the Grampians, 95, 233. — Characteristic view of the Grampians, 
107 — Hereditary titles to their possessions enjoyed by the inhabitants, 
168. — Natives of, distinguished for their learning, 19a — Introduction 
of yoint-stock Farms recommended, 27 1« — Plan for the better regu- 
lation of the Leases of the Grampians and Western Isles - 28S 

Gael obliged to emigrate, 8 — Fatal change on their health and morals; 
14, 28. — Their former occupations described, 29.— Miseries atten- 
dant on their Emigration, 33. — Employment pointed out for them at 
home, 38, 200. — The Gael led in arms to America, — A father kills his 
own son, 50. — The future happiness of the Gael anticipated, 69. — 
Husbandry of the Gael described, 71.— History o£ by the Genius of 
Caledonia, 84. — The prosperity of the Gael foretold, 86L— Pastimes 
during winter, 123, 256. — Shihny match, 124^— Dancing, 127, 257. 
Address to the Legislature in behalf of the Gael - 149 

Georgics of the Grampian mountains - ^_ - 71 


Came of the Grampians have almost disappeared since the introduction 
of the Sheep Farms - - 32, 196" 


Hunting among the Grampians * - 80 

Heath-cock, its extreme insensibility to danger - - 104 

Highland Society of Scotland^ a suggestion to, to encourage by a Pre- 
mium the improvement of the native breed of the Sheep of the Gram- 
pians - 218 
Horses, the prodigious number of kept in Britain, one great cause of the 

scarcity of corn - - 284 

Herring Fishery, a source of inexhaustible wealth, ought to be prosecut- 
ed with greater spirit and perseverance - - 294 


Infield and outfield described - - 158 

lurrum, or Choral Oar-song of the Hebridian mariners - 138, 297 

Johnson's (Dr Samuel) belief in second-sight accounted for . 253 

Joint-stock Farms recommended to the adoption of the proprietors in 

the Highlands, and proved to be practicable by a striking example 27 z 
Isla, t island of, (belonging to Walter Campbell Esq. of Shawfield) 
excellent state of its rural economy - - 290 

Iceland, celebrated for the learning of its inhabitants from the remotest 
antiquity - -. - ' 299 


Kenneth, an emigrant, affecting episode of - 10 

Kincardine Moss, (the property of George Drummoki> Home, Esq.) 
its present state described - . 203 

Kilda (St) island of, account of its inhabitants - 298 


Landholders of the Highlands, too generally regardless of the miseries of 
the Gael — Many of them generous and humane, to whom the 
unfortunate look up for redress of their grievances 63, 64, 2x8 


^Malvina's Bream - - - 17 

Maniac, an affecting episode of a widowed ■. - 57 


Mar, Earl, Letter of to M*Dowell of Keppoch - iSt 

Malestrom, a dangerous whirlpool on the coast of Norway 144, 302 

Maid of Norway ... i4<j f 302 

Malcolm Canmore, King of Scotland, account of . 182 

Margaret, Queen of Malcolm Canmore, angular anecdote re- 
specting 184 


Poor-rates, plan proposed for the gradual abolition of - 215 

Political Economy, leading maxims of 140, 306 


Runrig described - « - 158 

Rack-rent, prevalent among the Grampians - 178 



Sheep-Store system, the chief cause of the depopulation of the Highlands 8 
Sheep, Alien Breed inferior to the Native, 55.— Introduction of into 
the Grampians, 200.— Native breed superior to the alien, an. — 
Their proper treatment pointed out - 111,247-8-9 

Sheep-shearing Song - 9$ 

Second-sight of the Highlanders - - 252 

Stalker perishes in a storm of snow 56 


Waste Lands of Britain might be cultivated by the Gael 38, 200 

Whale Dogs described - - 300 

Wraith, a spirit that presides over the N. W. point of Scotland, hence 
denominated Cape-Wraith - - 305 


London, April i6tb 1S04* 








Let us not be weary in well-doing : for in due season we shall 
reap, if we faint not. Gal. c. vi. v. o. 


The great end in view, with respect to this new Agricultural Institu- 
tion, is, the Cultivation of Waste Lands in Great Britain and the adjacent 
Isles. In order, therefore, to point out the means best adapted to so desireable 
an end, the present Prospectus is thus submitted, with all possible deference, to 
the earnest consideration of public-spirited Friends of Rural Economy, the 
true benefactors of the industrious Peasantry, and poorer tradesmen of the unit- 
ed kingdom. 

It is a fact, no less remarkable than true* that there are twenty-two million* 
three hundred and fifty thousand acres of Waste Lands in Great Britain, which, 
to the no small reproach of this age of Agricultural speculation, remain, at 
this moment, in a state of unprofitable sterility. To colonise and cultivate these 
Waste Lands, ought surely to be an object of the first importance, and to 
meet with every countenance from persons in power, and others more remotely 
connected with the interests of the state. 

But, in aiming at this important object, let k always be understood, that the 
great maxim with the enlightened Legislator, is, steadily to preserve the Popu- 


Jttiofi of the Empire, comme nsu r at e cd the reasonable means of subsistence f 
otherwise, a numerous and idle people only hasten the decline and fall of the 
most powerful state. 

On the contrary, however, Diligence and Ingenuity being the handmaids of 
wealth, — an industrious people, how numerous soever, must necessarily promote 
the prosperity, and maintain the power, of a nation :-~-and whilst all must subsist 
on the produce of the soil, every one ought either to be actively employed, or 
zealous and vigilant in aiding those who labour in rearing the articles of primary 
necessity. Hence, Agriculture is the great basis on which all other useful and 
elegant arts of polished society are founded; consequently, the broader it is 
made, the more room wiU (here be for these arts to spread and flourish. 

The Cultivation of Waste Lands, it is sufficiently manifest, is one way of 
extending the basis of Agriculture, consequently, of extending trade, manufac- 
tures, and commerce. For, by this means, vast tracks of land, hitherto untouch- 
ed by either the plough or the spade, will ultimately be added to those 
already in the highest state of agricultural improvement. But there are many 
impediments in the way of this laudable and beneficial purpose ; the chief of 
which is, the want of small Capitals to begin with, which prevents many 
who would otherwise be inclined to turn their attention and radustry to this 
sort of rural employment, from doing so* with spirit and effect. 

A FuitD of Aid for Waste Land Cultivators is suggested as the best 
means of erecting such a Capital, for the purpose of encouraging ihdustriou* 
Feasants and Tradesmen to colonise lands of this description. 

This Fund of Aid, or Bank, is to lend, without interest, and to grant small 
sums by way of aid, to honest and well-inclined individuals, for the purpose 
of establishing them in such situations, and under such circumstances, as the Di- 
rectors of said Fund or Bank shall deem prudent, or adviseable. 

These, then, are the chief objects of an Association for realizing a Fond of Ait" 
for Waste Land Cultivators. And to this, patriotic establishment, the Le- 
gislator, the Landholder, the Farmer, the Manufacturer, and the Merchant, 
are thus invited to contribute, in order to place as speedily as- possible this Fund 
on a permanent footing ; by which means full effect will be given to the sta- 
tutes respecting the Cultivation of Waste Lands ; and many industrious indivi- 
duals will then be enabled to establish themselves, and better their condition 
in their native country. 

Until a meeting shall take place for the purpose of constituting this intended 
establishment, and afterwards application be made for a Royal Charter to give 
consequence and stability to the Association, the following Regulations are 
submitted to the consideration and revisal of the sensible and judicious, in order 
that the public opinion, and determination with regard to this new Agricultural 
Institution, and the great field of speculation which it manifestly embraces, may 
be freely obtained. 

Object, and Proposed Regulations of the Fund of Aid for 

Waste Land Cultivators. 

This benevolent institution has two principal objects in view. 

imoy The best mode of cultivating Waste Lands ; and the greatest possible 
quantity in the shortest space of time ; with the establishment of such Manu- 
factures, as situation and lolal circumstances shall favour or direct. 

2do> To aid those who shall hereafter incline to become Settlers or Cultiva- 
tors of Waste Lands in any part of Great Britain or the adjacent isles ; in lend- 
ing, without interest, for a time specified, on reasonable security, a certain 
sum or sums of money; or even, under peculiar circumstances, granting 
voluntary supplies of small sums by way of Premium or Gift* 

L Concerning Members. 

The Members of this Institution shall consist of three descriptions or classes; 
*iz. Ordinary, Extraordinary, and Corresponding. The Members of the first 
class are to take on themselves all the duties connected with the proper business 
of the Society ; consequently, the Committees are to be chosen from among 
them, as well as the Ordinary Directors and other Office-bearers necessarily con- 
inected with said Committees, as shall be deemed requisite for order and dispatch 
of business before them. Extraordinary Members are eligible to vote for the 
admission of new Members only ; but they must become Ordinary Members 
to be entitled to enter fully into the management of the affairs of the In- 
stitution, unless they be chosen office-bearers, in which case they are under- 
stood to be Ordinary Members. Corresponding Members are neither eligible 
to vote nor interfere with the management of the Society's funds, unless when 
they are balloted for and admitted as Ordinary Members ; but they are at all 
times free to enter *he meetings of the Society, and take a part in the business 
"before said meetings, so far at least as regards the welfare of the Institution, 
.and the main object of its intentions. 

II. Concerning the Office-Bearers and Committees* 

The Institution shall choose from among the Ordinary Members, a President, 
two Vice-Presidents, a Treasurer, and Secretary, together with some petty 
, Officers necessarily connected with every such Society ; and also Nine Mana- 
gers or Directors, who shall be responsible for managing and directing the pro- 
per business of the Society ; and who shall likewise nominate and appoint two 
Sub-committees, for the purpose of conducting certain departments of business 
rminctriately to be mentioned. The first of these Sub-committees is to take 
charge #f whatever regards Agricultural Improvement. The second, what- 
ever concerns the welfare of the Cultivators. The latter shall be satisfied that 
individuals craving aid from the Institution, are worthy of the same, befotc 

recommending such to the 'protection of the first; rod, on the lecqnwnrnriatiwi 
of the first, the Committee of Directors shall order the Treasurer to issue a sum 
or sums on reasonable security, without interest > for a specified and limited 
time ; or, if necessary, grant tfree gift of a small sum. 

JTJ. Concerning the Description of Persons eligible as 


Any individual, either married or unmarried, and of unimpeachable moral 
character, whose habits of industry may lead him to better his condition by be- 
coming a Settler, or Cultivator of Waste Lands, agreeably to certain regulations 
respecting the particular mode of management or rural economy,— -shall be 
considered as a fit object for the protection and aid of this Institution. 

IV. Concerning the Donors, Benefactors, and Patrons. 

Books of Subscription shall be kept for the insertion of the names and sums 
of the Contributors. Subscribers of One Guinea are Donors ; of Five Guineas 
Benefactors ; and of Ten or more Guineas, Patrons, And after the Society 
is duly constituted, One Guinea shall be paid annually by each Ordinary 
and Extraordinary Member of the Institution ; but the Corresponding (or 
Honorary Members, if there should be any) shall be understood to be exempt 
from any annual contribution whatever. 

V. Concerning the Time and Place of Meetings. 

There shall be two General or Extraordinary Meetings, two Ordinary Meet- 
ings, and eight Monthly Meetings, in each year. The first Extraordinary 
Meeting about the term of Candlemas, and the second about the term of Lam- 
mas : The first Ordinary Meeting about the term of Whitsunday, and the se- 
cond about the term of Martinmas : And the Monthly Meetings shall take 
place the second Friday of March, April, May, August, September, October, 
November, and January, in each year, for the dispatch of business. 

VI. Concerning the Revised of Regulations, &c. 

There shall be appointed, from time to time, a Select Committee for the 
revisal of the Regulations, and preserving the Constitution of the Society, con- 
formable to its main principles and original design. 

As soon as a reasonable List of Subscribers shall appear in the Books, a meet- 
ing shall be called, by public notice, in the London, Edinburgh, and provincial 
newspapers, for the purpose of constituting the Society, electing Office- 
bearers, and other business connected with the views of this Institution. 









Thii book it under no circumstances to be 
taken from the Buildin* 


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